


where the lightning strikes the earth, i'll be waiting

by strawberrytozaki



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, JYP is a snake villain lol, depictions of violence, jihyo-centric, some fluff and some angst, squint for mina/momo/nayeon, this is all over the place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrytozaki/pseuds/strawberrytozaki
Summary: in which park jihyo learns to let go and minatozaki sana tries to remember how to hold on
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Myoui Mina, Minatozaki Sana/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Comments: 16
Kudos: 116





	1. part one

Jihyo’s been holding a grudge the size of the sun since she was ten years old. She used to suffocate under the weight of it, let resentment bubble up and boil over until she was consumed by its heat that scorched scars into her heart. Would focus all of her energy on being angry and hurt and feeling abandoned, all day, until her tired little feet would hit her lumpy bed that never began to feel like home, and she’d fall into a dreamless sleep.

It’s different now. The grudge is still there, simmering quietly under the determination and thirst to succeed that she had shifted her focus toward some years ago. She used it as a fire beneath her actions that led her to be the best of the best in everything she did, led to endless praise and recognition as one of their best pupils, and Jihyo loved it.

It’s not easy being the best in an academy for superheroes, but Jihyo manages, someway, somehow.

It started when she turned ten; when she began to zap people with electricity that was too strong to be static, could make the lights flicker when her temper got the best of her, began floating while she concentrated on her favourite video game. Her parents were scared and confused and—they left her.

Not on the street, or in an alley, or some other tragic case of child neglect. No, they were contacted by an establishment that dealt with children “ _like her,”_ were given the opportunity to rid themselves of the burden of a child that was too powerful for them to comprehend. They told her she could come home when she was better, stronger, understood the depths and intricacies of her abilities.

She hasn’t heard from them in seven years.

She used to wait, patiently, fidgeting in a cold metal seat in the recreation room every third Sunday of the month; family day. She would wait, watch as parents came to see their children’s progress. Some parents were Supers, which was always a fascinating sight to see, admiring the adults playfully showing off their matured skillsets. Others were normal people; these occurrences hurt the most. It cut deep when she would see Park Chaeyoung excitedly explain the way her telekinesis works to her parents; one an accountant, the other a schoolteacher. Tears would fill her eyes to the brim when she would catch sight of Kang Seulgi lifting the chair that her father sat on with a proud smile, knowing he was nothing more than a pharmacist. It hurt, because she waited and waited and the only faces that never walked through those doors were those of the people meant to love her the most.

Thank god for Myoui Mina.

The girl has two Supers for parents, a father that can turn to steel and a mother that can dematerialize at will; a match made in heaven, or a paradox that should’ve never lasted? Whatever the answer, they’ve been together since they met in the academy, have been in love just as long and, one day, when both Mina and Jihyo were ten and a half and Jihyo was crying into her pillow as she began to realize that her parents were never coming, Mina placed a small hand on her small shoulder and said, “we can share my parents, they won’t mind.” And, true to her word, they never did.

Being Superheroes themselves, they often couldn’t make it to family day—slightly too preoccupied with saving the world. On days where they couldn’t, Mina and Jihyo would sneak off to the fields where Jihyo would help Mina fly and Mina would show Jihyo how she teleports. On days where they could, Mina’s dad would let Jihyo watch in awe as he turned his arm to steel, would let her punch and kick to her heart’s content until she was worn and tired and her knuckles were sore. Her mother would hold Jihyo’s hand until she felt as light as a feather while she watched her body slowly disappear with the woman’s own, would show Jihyo how she could stick her hand through a door at will. They tried to fill the gaping hole in her heart that Jihyo’s own parents left and she wonders if this wasn’t the sole reason that she didn’t lose her sanity during her years at the academy.

When a child under the care of the academy turns seventeen, they have to take a series of final tests before they can graduate and be let out into the regular world. Most kids transfer to high schools to finish their senior year amongst normal people, while others jump right into the Association, dive headfirst into the nitty gritty work of an official Superhero fresh out of the extravagant academy.

Jihyo wants to be like them, wants to be good, save people, _do something_ to make a difference, but Mina’s parents sit them both down weeks before Jihyo turns seventeen, offer—no, _insist_ —that Jihyo stay with them after graduation, go to high school and get her diploma like the normal child she so rarely got to be in the past seven years of her life. It’s hard to say no to the people that have given her everything when her parents left her with nothing.

That’s how she finds herself sitting on the damp pavement outside of the Judgement Hall, Mina’s fingers wound tightly around her own as they await the results of her best friend’s tests. It’s Mina’s birthday; she opted to take the test immediately, didn’t want to keep Jihyo at the academy any longer than she had to because Jihyo had already graduated a month ago and Jihyo had waited for her and Jihyo just seems _tired_ and—now they’re here. Jihyo spent the last month training with Mina. Trained until their limbs felt like jelly and their lungs were so deprived of oxygen that every gasping breath was reminiscent of breaking the surface of the ocean after being dragged under by the current. Mina didn’t need it, they both knew she would pass in a heartbeat, but Jihyo did; Jihyo needed the distraction from the fact that in a few short weeks they would both be thrown into the real world, handed to their demons on a silver platter where the four walls of the academy could no longer protect them. She wondered, sadly, if she were only great at kissing danger because she had been dancing atop a safety net.

“Hey,” Mina’s soft voice swirls through her sense and shatters the insecurities she had been mulling over in the same instant. Jihyo smiles.

“Nervous?” She asks, pretends like it’s not _her_ squeezing the life out of _Mina’s_ hand, like, for once in her life, she’s giving comfort rather than taking it. Mina pretends, too.

“A little bit.” (Not at all.) “But I had a great coach,” she teases.

“You did great, I swear I’ve never seen so much agility in one person in my entire life,” Jihyo promises earnestly. “Even Professor Bae looked impressed at the way you escaped the ability-lock chamber, the way you thought outside the box.”

“I wasn’t thinking, really, I panicked mostly and just—”

“Just _nothing_ , you did great, Mina.”

It’s a tender moment, with Mina letting her insecurities slip past her cool front and Jihyo catching each drop in her hands, diluting them down to nothing.

“Thank y—”

“Myoui Mina, please enter the Hall for your final review.”

[…]

Walking into the Myoui residence for the first time brings an overwhelming rush of emotion as Jihyo is encased in hugs from both of Mina’s parents and she’s crying before she can process anything other than their touch. It’s surprising for everyone in the room, because Jihyo doesn’t cry often and none of them are quite sure what to do other than hold her tighter, lest any of her beautiful pieces wash away in the heavy tides of her emotions.

It subsides soon enough into quiet hiccups and embarrassed laughter and then everyone forgets about it just as easily. (Jihyo will forever be thankful for the fact that she is never pushed past her boundaries with the three people that stand in front of her.)

There are photographs that adorn the walls from when Mina was a young child, bangs falling distractingly over her eyes as she grins at the camera in a way that makes Jihyo wish she could’ve known her then, too. She takes comfort in knowing that Mina’s eyes still twinkle like the reflection of stars in the ocean, that her smile still holds the kindness of a thousand saints; that she hadn’t been worn down to nothing in the academy in the same way Jihyo had. It’s an unfamiliar house, one where she bumps into corners and opens the wrong doors, feels like a child wandering through a magical forest that holds so many secrets, but so few that belong to herself. It’s still more of a home than anything she’s felt in the past seven years.

They get one week off before their transfer is official and they begin classes at the nearby high school. Mina’s parents are already long gone, off to Beijing and then Paris and then somewhere else because they’re never really allowed the luxury of staying in their own home for more than a few days. Jihyo sleeps for the first half of it, feels like she’s making up for years of restless insomnia and sleep tainted by nightmares that left invisible scars on her skin. For the second half, her and Mina talk.

They talk about anything and everything, until their tongues feel numb and their brains are surrounded with static fuzz that makes it hard to think, because as much as they like to pretend, they’re both deathly afraid of what’s going to happen when they step foot out of the Myoui residence for the first time. So, they talk. They don’t let the usual comfortable silence fill the fractures in their conversations, instead, scramble for any subject to force into the emptiness; the wrong puzzle piece shoved into the spot that you just _can’t figure out_.

Mina and Jihyo are as much alike as they are polar opposites. The average onlooker would wonder why the two are as close as they are; loud, confident, brazenly daring Park Jihyo attached to the hip of timid, gentle, hopelessly kind Myoui Mina. It had been a shock to the student body when they began showing up to every lesson, every meal, hand-in-hand with grins to match. _They’d never get it_ , Jihyo had always thought. They would never see the way Mina held Jihyo’s shaking hands after nightmares, held them until the tremors stopped and she could breathe again, they would never understand the silent conversations the two girls shared, though neither of them were telepathic, they couldn’t fathom the way Jihyo made Mina feel powerful when everybody else saw her as the little girl that hit her growth spurt too late, the one that could never get her weight up to a sufficient number in time for monthly reviews. Jihyo and Mina were different in ways that allowed them to fill the spaces where the other was lacking and no one needed to understand it but them.

They’d never been in love. Or, never seriously. There was a period when they were thirteen, where they held hands and kissed awkwardly under the moonlight because everybody expected them to and they didn’t know how else to explain the aching affection they felt for each other. It had lasted less than a week, both deciding it was gross and unnatural after Kim Dahyun asked if they were dating and neither of them wanted to say yes. Jihyo thinks Mina’s parents had always been rooting for them, silently, from a distance, wanting both girls to share a love like the one they had found and Jihyo used to wish she could have been the one to give Mina that love.

It’s different now. Mina and Jihyo dance around each other with a familiarity that only comes when you’ve met someone meant to be in your life forever. Be it romantic or platonic or even borne from hate. Jihyo pushes when Mina pulls and vice versa and, sometimes, Jihyo wonders where she would be without her best friend. Wonders if she would’ve pushed and pushed and _pushed_ until she fell from the edge of humanity and plummeted to the depths of her resentment. She shivers at the thought.

“Are you ready?” Mina asks, Jihyo’s hand in hers as they peer up at the intimidating building in front of them.

“I know I’m a Super and all, but I feel like normie high school is going to kill me.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

[…]

The first time Jihyo meets Sana, it’s two months after they leave the academy. She sees a blazing entity with electricity crackling in her trail—snakes that nip her ankles, like they’re being held hostage by her rather than being a product _of_ her. Jihyo needs to shake her head a few times to make sure she’s not hallucinating. The blow to her head _was_ quite hard.

“Hey, newbie,” the livewire of a human being shouts for her attention and Jihyo can only look at her dumbly. “I figure you’re new here, but could you try hitting the bad guys with your electric thingies instead of me?” The strings of electricity disappear like they’re being sucked into the girl’s body and Jihyo watches in amazement before the insult rings in her ears.

“I’m not _new_ ,” she spits out, narrowly dodging a hit from one of the crooks she was in the middle of ass-kicking before this girl showed up.

“Well, you look like you could use some help.” Jihyo grunts as she flips another heavy man over her shoulder and onto the floor with a loud _crack_. She looks up to where the girl is perched like a cat atop the bank teller’s counter and narrows her eyes.

“Well, you’re wrong. I’m fine—"

Jihyo wakes up in an unfamiliar bedroom with a splitting headache and a sudden bubble of panic threatening to pop at any moment. She bolts upright, ignoring the pain in her head as she feels around for her cellphone in the bed that smells like fresh laundry and a little bit like lavender. She finally catches sight of it, when the last bit of sleep is blinked from her eyes and she’s adjusted to the darkness (of late night, or early morning, she doesn’t know,) sees her sad, shattered excuse for a phone sitting atop the bedside table and she whimpers. She knew she should’ve left it at home.

“Oh, good! You’re awake.” Jihyo hears as she finally tears her eyes away from the heap of glass and metal and wires. “I tried to salvage what I could of your phone, but you took a pretty hard tumble. Should’ve left it—”

“At home. I know,” she snaps. Then her eyes meet familiar brown ones, ones that look like they hold the secrets of the earth and the vastness of the universe. “What happened?” She asks, instead of _who are you,_ or _why am I here?_ because she feels strangely safe around this girl that had been wrapped in a web of her lightning bolts.

“You got conked out by one of the meatheads at the bank last night, lost consciousness. So, I brought you here to patch you up.” Almost on instinct, Jihyo brings her hand to the source of her pain and finds a neatly cut bandage on the skin at the base of her skull. “I’m Sana.”

“Oh… well, thank you, Sana.” The name falls awkwardly from her lips, unused to speaking a word that holds as many implications as the ones that lay in Sana’s amused expression. She reaches for her pocket on instinct, for her mangled phone that’s forgotten on the table as she thinks to call Mina and— _oh, shit_. “I need to go,” Jihyo rushes out, shooting upward despite the pain in her head and every aching muscle in her body telling her to lay back down. “I need to get home. My friend must be worried about me.”

“Oh?” Sana lets out, more of a curious noise than a word as she watches Jihyo collect her few belongings like the world would end if she didn’t. “Are you sure? You can call them with my phone. You should eat.” Something in her tone sounds like genuine concern and it makes Jihyo pause, seriously contemplate the offer for a moment before she shakes her head vehemently.

“No, no, thank you. I need to get going,” she answers as she trails Sana to the front door.

“Do you need a ride home?”

Jihyo smirks, looks around to make sure the streets are empty, and then she jumps into the air and she’s gone like a bullet. She misses the way Sana chuckles after her, misses the thinly veiled excitement in the girl’s eyes as she disappears. But that’s okay, because their paths are about to intertwine much more violently, much too quickly, before either of them would have a chance to breathe, really.

  
[…]

“ _What the hell were you thinking?”_ Mina screeches as soon as Jihyo closes the front door behind her, busted lip and limp in her walk as she winces at Mina’s tone. In the next second, Mina wraps her in a bone crushing hug that should hurt like a bitch, but Mina’s breathing is slowing down and her veins are filling with thick, sticky, black pain that doesn’t belong to her and Jihyo pulls back immediately.

“Don’t,” she pleads softly. “It’s not worth it, it’s not that bad.” They make eye contact and Jihyo doesn’t waver, her strong stance a promise enough to Mina that she’s being truthful.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Mina asks. It’s later, when the sun is peeking over the horizon and they’re watching cartoons while they eat cereal in silence. “I could’ve helped.”

Jihyo knows she’s right, feels white-hot shame burning to the tips of her fingers as she struggles to keep her grip on her bowl. She could lie, say it wasn’t on purpose and she would’ve told Mina if she knew. But Mina doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know when Jihyo’s lies to her. So, instead, she sighs.

“It’s been two months of doing nothing. I wanted to feel powerful again, useful,” she admits just loud enough to be heard over the buzz of the television. Mina doesn’t answer, simply scoots closer to lay her head on Jihyo’s shoulder and let Jihyo curl an arm around her. Jihyo knows why, knows it’s because Mina is trying, in her own Mina way, to show Jihyo that she’s useful, _needed_ , even when she’s not out stopping crime. One of Mina’s biggest struggles has always been with the fact that the only pain she can alleviate is physical, Jihyo holds her tighter as she realizes this. Something weighs heavy in her chest when she remembers Sana and the electricity that coiled around her like a sash, _her_ electricity.

They fall asleep when the sun is high in the sky. Jihyo dreams of fields of lavender and electric dresses.

[…]

As it goes, Sana is everywhere after they meet. She goes to their high school, Jihyo learns on the Monday after the bank incident. They managed to go two months without running into each other but, as fate would have it, Sana exits the physics lab just as Jihyo is entering and it feels like the entire Earth cracks and shifts as their energy mingles in the space between them.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Mosquito Zapper in the flesh.” Jihyo’s expressionless eyes meet Sana’s, earth orbs that dance with unprecedented joy and excitement over absolutely nothing and absolutely everything.

“What?” She asks, tries to play indifferent despite the thumping in her chest begging her to say more.

“I never caught your name, you zapped me, voila! _Mosquito Zapper!”_ Sana explains with a childish smile that makes Jihyo believe she had hallucinated watching her take on men three times the size of her.

“Jihyo,” she supplies instead of anything else from the growing list of questions she’s compiling in her head.

“Jihyo,” Sana repeats, like she’s trying to feel how the name tastes in her mouth before releasing it so delicately into a cloud of air. The smile on her face reminds Jihyo of cotton candy, sweet, light and it makes something in Jihyo melt. Then, she remembers how Sana indirectly got her knocked on her ass and huffs, shaking off the buzz in her veins that seems to accompany Sana’s presence.

“See you,” she grumbles, brushing past Sana and into her class before the final bell rings. She doesn’t dwell on the fact that their interaction likely made Sana late.

This becomes a regular occurrence as the days go by. If Jihyo didn’t know better, she would say Sana has begun to wait for her in between classes just to greet her with a witty comment before slipping down the hall and out of sight. It progresses from that before either of them can blink, and they begin talking after school, sometimes before if they catch each other on the way to their respective classes; Sana is a senior and Jihyo is still a junior. They aren’t friends, despite Sana acting like they are.

Things don’t _really_ change until two weeks later.

Jihyo tells Mina this time, as she gets her clothes together before heading out the door. She tells her that she knows it’s not her job yet, but she needs to do this, needs to prove to herself that she _can_ do this. And Mina doesn’t hold her back (she never would,) but she does slip on her own all-black outfit and follow Jihyo wordlessly through the city.

Again, _thank god_ for Myoui Mina. Because what Jihyo thought would be a minor drug handoff turns out to be a full-fledged push of trafficked drugs at the docks and she knows she wouldn’t stand a chance alone.

Mina is timid and gentle and has the most terrifying game face that Jihyo has ever seen.

It’s kind of exhilarating, honestly, to put their skills to use as a duo. Because Mina lifts water from the ocean to wrap around the legs of two men and Jihyo sends sparks crackling throughout the fluid in a way that has them seizing on the ground. Mina blows icy kisses that freeze gun barrels until they explode backwards while Jihyo creates storms with her fingertips that leave grown men shaking to their veins. They dance around each other like they’re trading secrets with their eyes closed, dish out hit after hit as the ground becomes littered with unconscious bodies of crooks that would awake in a holding cell.

It’s exhilarating until it isn’t.

Mina misses a step, or maybe it’s Jihyo, but they collide into each other and the split second that they’re off kilter results in a sharp knock to Mina’s head. One that sends her reeling into darkness before she can teleport out of harm’s way and Jihyo is alone against a crowd of evil that seems to have multiplied.

She wants to shout for her friend, wake her up and take her home as her hands tremor with a type of fear that she hadn’t felt since she was ten and left outside of an ominous building. Her moment of distraction causes her to miss the sound of a bullet flying straight toward her, one that disintegrates into dust before she can take what she thinks to be her last breath. And then she hears it.

“Hey, sparky!”

_Of course._

Sana grunts heavily as she catches another bullet in her palm before it ricochets back in the direction it came, embedding itself into the muscle of its sender. Jihyo watches in awe for a split second, watches while Sana flickers in and out of tangibility, walking through fists and bullets until she jumps down onto the dock and pulls Jihyo up by her arm.

“You look like you could use some help.” Jihyo huffs in annoyance and shoves Sana to the side before she’s hit in the head with the butt of a rifle, ignores Sana’s squeal of delight as she watches Jihyo draw lightning from her fingertips down the throat of the same man.

“I was fine,” she grunts, (lies,) ducking and avoiding what would be a brutal blow to her face. Sana laughs somewhere behind her and it feels so jarring; something so light and joyful existing in the atmosphere they find themselves in.

“I definitely believe you.” Sana’s smiling, Jihyo knows because she can hear the words as they scrape past her teeth and it makes the unnecessary frustration bubble thicker in her chest. Is it frustration? Yes, she tells herself, she swears it.

Mina finds her footing in the next minute or so, is barely phased by the sight of Sana as she freezes the limbs of half their enemies in a fit of anger.

_“They busted my lip and I have a date tomorrow!”_ Is her explanation when all of the men are in various states of wounded and the three girls begin to walk away with more adrenaline in their veins than blood. Sana says she’s a little bit afraid of her and Jihyo is the one beaming like a proud mother as Mina blushes at the comment.

It’s a turning point, somehow. Because Mina really does have a date the next day, and she really does have a busted lip, and Jihyo leaves the house ten minutes after Mina because something about being there alone feels wrong. She finds herself in the empty field that was once apparently a high school, burnt to a crisp after a failed chemistry lab and everything about it draws her in as she quietly practices what she spent years mastering. In the darkness, alone with nothing but her thoughts, she tries to suppress the flashes of memories of the people that abandoned her, the ones whose faces she still looks for in big crowds, who she’s terrified of running into on her way to the grocery store or a trip to the mall. _Would they even recognize me?_

It’s a turning point because Sana finds her, like she always does, and it’s turning point because Jihyo doesn’t tell her to leave.

“Hey,” Sana greets, casually landing on the grass and watching as Jihyo tosses a ball of electricity between her fingers. “What’re you doing?”

“Practicing,” Jihyo answers plainly, eyes fixed on the crackling orb in her hands. _Would they even recognize me?_ she wonders again.

“Alone?”

She sighs, crumples the ball in her hands and looks up. Sana’s eyes are still the colour of the Earth’s secrets, even when it’s so dark that Jihyo can barely make out what’s written on her shirt. She leans forward. _Would I care if they didn’t?_

“I’m not alone, am I?” _No_ , she doesn’t think she would.

The grin she’s rewarded with makes it worth it.

It’s quiet for some time, with Sana watching respectfully as Jihyo toys with a few new strategies she’s been thinking about ever since her first encounter at the bank. It’s never made Jihyo feel uncomfortable; being watched, that is. Typically, she thrives with an audience, with people to gape in awe as they tell her she did well, did the best.

Something about Sana makes her feel timid. Maybe it’s the idea that Sana seems more knowledgeable, more in control of her abilities, more experienced. Whatever it is, it has Jihyo glancing in her direction every so often, waiting for a frown of disapproval that never comes. Sana is the perfect picture of intrigued, eyes tracing every movement of Jihyo’s muscles like she’s trying to commit it to memory, like she’s impressed by this newfound _Superhero._ Ironically, Jihyo is beginning to feel like she no longer deserves the title that’s freshly printed on her certificate; the one that sits next to Mina’s on the mantle of the Myoui residence, of her home.

“What can you do, really?” Jihyo allows herself to ask once she’s exhausted and sweaty and needs to sit down. Sana’s grin teeters the fine line between heaven and hell and Jihyo feels herself being pulled in by it. Out of curiosity, she tells herself, because she’s seen Sana in action, but she still can’t put a name to her abilities.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Sana stands and dusts off her pants as she moves to stand in front of Jihyo. “Zap me,” she demands in a tone so casual that Jihyo could have believed she had said _pass the salt_ if she weren’t listening.

“ _What?”_ She hisses, bewildered and confused when Sana lets a giggle spill from her lips.

“C’mon, I’ll be fine, just do it,” the older girl urges. Jihyo looks at her like she’s crazy and, honestly, maybe she is. Maybe Jihyo is just as bad, because she lifts her fingers in the next second and lets her energy rumble through her veins and out from the tips; an exhale. She watches the little string dance through the air and, as it collides with Sana’s abdomen, well—it doesn’t, actually. It goes right through her as her solidity flickers, but the grin on her face stays as tangible as ever.

“So, you can turn into Casper the Friendly Ghost? I already knew that,” she huffs. Sana looks at her with something indescribably fond and it makes Jihyo squirm from her spot in the grass.

“Okay, zap me again,” Sana sighs, smile still toying at her lips. “And give it a little extra juice this time, yeah? I’m a big girl.” Jihyo’s eyebrows raise at the challenging tone and she stands to her feet, if only to be on the same level as the other girl. She flexes her palm open and shut, feels the electricity crackle within each cell in her body as it hastily pushes and shoves its way through her skin, blasting outward and wrapping around Sana like a blanket on a cold day. She flinches for a moment, is about to pull it back into her body before any serious damage can be inflicted, before Sana gets hurt the way Jihyo has hurt too many in the past, before—Sana starts _laughing_. Her joyous chuckles flit through the air and fog Jihyo’s thoughts as she watches Sana manipulate the bolts of lightning like a puppeteer, makes them dance alongside each other, makes them wrap around Jihyo and kiss at her skin and pull her closer; or maybe that was Jihyo’s own two feet driving her toward the girl that didn’t burn at her touch. Then the ropes of electricity are gone, absorbed into Sana’s bones and Jihyo is close enough that she can see as they pass through her eyes, can see the earth brown flash white-blue like the lightning that is her second nature and she shivers despite the humidity around them.

“And that was?” She asks, quietly, gently, like the air around them is filled with a gas that will be set off by the slightest warmth from her breath.

“I can absorb other people’s powers, make them mine. Temporarily, of course,” Sana answers with ease. Jihyo is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “I’m like a Super Sponge,” Sana adds thoughtfully, if only to break the silence that seems to agitate her.

Jihyo smiles.

“I see the resemblance. It’s in the cheeks.”

“ _Hey!”_

It goes on like this for a while. Mina keeps going on her dates (with a girl named _Im Nayeon_ that has a smart mouth and a brilliant smile,) and Sana keeps finding Jihyo in the cloak of night with only the sparks of her fingertips as company. Sometimes they practice, sometimes they watch the stars, sometimes they talk (when Jihyo is too tired to hold up the walls that Sana’s cotton candy smiles relentlessly attack.)

She learns that Sana is incredibly powerful, despite her soft exterior and softer heart. She was something of a Super prodigy as a child, was taken under the wing of a former academy Professor and learned what took lifetimes to master by the time she turned fifteen. Jihyo listens to every word she says, because Sana’s voice is light and breezy and curls around Jihyo’s mind like it was made to take residence in her thoughts.

She learns a lot from Sana, becomes more confident in herself as the weeks pass and the spring turns to summer and they have nothing but time on their hands. The three of them (Mina, Jihyo, Sana,) become something of a famous trio in the city, talk of their aliases slowly seeping through towns like a running river until, suddenly, the whole country is talking about them.

But Mina still goes on her dates and Sana still finds Jihyo in the abandoned field, with sparks on the tip of her tongue and fondness swimming in her eyes.

“So, I’ve come up with a theory, or a hypothesis, or whichever is correct,” Sana announces one day (night,) as she tries to walk a straight line on her tiptoes and Jihyo is laying in the grass. The younger girl hums in acknowledgement, props up on her elbow so she can see a sideways view of the girl that she can probably draw from memory. “Well, we can fly, right?”

“Right,” Jihyo nods, because this is how Sana always is when she has a new _brilliant_ idea, and Jihyo has long since learned not to question it.

“And, we don’t grow wings or anything, so we aren’t technically using physics to do it, right?”

“Right.”

“So, here’s my idea: our power is more than just flying. We have the ability to shift the force of the air around us in order for it to propel us in whichever direction we manipulate it. And, if I’m correct, that means we can learn how to consciously control that and, as a result, learn to control air.” Jihyo is stunned at the words for a moment, because Sana always has a superficial aloofness to her that makes people forget that she’s an honours student who received full rides to every university of her choice upon graduating, but Jihyo knows better. Knows there’s a genius brain that Sana is too humble to show in the light of day. “ _Like an airbender!”_ Sana adds excitedly after a beat, and Jihyo is reminded of the young, innocent girl Sana truly is.

“You’re a virtually invincible being, yet you still envy fictional superpowers?”

“There’s always room for improvement, Jihyo-ssi.” There’s a twinkle in Sana eyes, the reflection of the stars and the moon and everything pure, that makes Jihyo swallow the witty remark bubbling in the back of her throat. “And, besides, Mina-chan is basically a waterbender.”

So, Sana stands and Jihyo looks up at her like she’s some sort of god, because Jihyo is not entirely convinced that she _isn’t_ one. Sana’s permanent smile fades into furrowed brows and hard edges as she concentrates on something that Jihyo can’t see or hear or touch and she waits with bated breath for whatever comes next. There’s something charged in the air that makes it feel like a fragile moment as Sana is bare and vulnerable, allowing Jihyo to watch her attempt to mature her powers whether she fails or not. Jihyo swallows the realization down heavily.

Then, Sana breathes.

She lets out a gust of air from her mouth as her hands cup the space around her and turn it into a small whirlwind between her palms and Sana’s loud squeal breaks the trance that Jihyo found herself caught up in. Her eyes snap to the face of her—whatever they are (friends? Partners? Partners, she decides, has a nice ring to it)—and sees Sana struggling to contain her excitement at the fact that she was right, and she succeeded, and she’s holding the power of the world in her hands.

“I can’t believe I did it!” She half-shouts as she stretches her hands like she’s pulling apart something sticky and watches as the swirling wind expands to follow. Jihyo is still watching in amazement, a heavy and indescribable feeling wrapping around her heart the same way Sana’s windstorm swirls around their bodies. And then, all at once, like it never even happened—it’s gone. The absence of the whistling winds makes some part of Jihyo lurch with emptiness, emptiness that Sana’s bright eyes fill in the same instant, and she wonders how kind she must have been in a past life to get to share this moment with the girl in front of her.

“You _have_ to teach me that.”

[…]

Summer is a flurry of melting popsicles, Sana’s laughter, and bruises that Jihyo thinks she’ll be able to see for the rest of her life. It brings with it two new people into her life; Im Nayeon, with her radiant smile, and Hirai Momo, whose heart is made of gold and fists are made of fire.

Mina introduces Nayeon somewhere between the haze of muggy June turning into blazing July, while Sana and Jihyo are sharing a milkshake from a new ice cream shop and switching between criticizing it and gulping it down like it’s the last drink on earth. Nayeon is kind and witty and she slots into their lives like she had always been there.

Momo arrives in a ball of flame and smoke and Jihyo can only stare dumbly as she burns a circle into the traumatized grass of her favourite field. Sana jumps up immediately, squeals and laughs and wraps Momo in a hug despite the girl still being a burning ember, simply soaks up her heat while she holds on tight and Momo’s stoic expression melts into fondness as she gives in.

They’re old friends, Jihyo knows because Sana mentions Momo at any given opportunity with the type of admiration that Jihyo thinks she refers to Mina with. They trained under the same Professor, both girls leaving their old worlds behind to become something greater than life. Jihyo has heard countless stories about their adventures and the times they fought death and won and meeting Momo feels distantly like meeting an idol. The novelty quickly fades, though, as Jihyo sees the Momo that trips over her own two feet and stops to ask strangers if it’s alright to pet their dogs, and then Momo is less of an idol and more of a friend.

“What are you doing here?” Sana had asked breathlessly when she was finished taking in the sight of Momo. _Momo,_ real and tangible and in the flesh instead of over a grainy Facetime call.

Momo’s eyes crinkled into a type of smile that would make anyone swoon as she said, “I had time off, and I missed you,” but something in her tone made Jihyo feel like an hourglass had just been flipped and the grains of sand were already slipping through her fingers too fast for her to catch them.

She doesn’t dwell on it, though, because she learns that Momo is an open book and she’s sure if she voiced her concerns, she would get an honest answer. So, she keeps it to herself. Allows it to be buried beneath the lowest of her worries while she enjoys the sweltering heat of summer and the pride she feels every time she saves a life.

Things change, a little bit, after Jihyo and Mina are broadcasted on the news as they save a building of hostages during an armed robbery, where Mina’s mask rides up the bottom of her face as a result of an elbow to her nose. It’s a fleeting moment, too quick for anybody to notice really. Or, at least, anybody that didn’t spend hours of their day mapping out Mina’s face with their eyes and committing every inch of her skin to memory.

Nayeon bangs on Mina’s door at almost 10p.m. that day and barges in as soon as the lock clicks open.

“Is this you?” She asks breathlessly as she holds a printed-out screenshot from the national news. Jihyo’s eyes are wide from her spot on the couch where she holds an icepack to her ankle.

Mina looks between Nayeon’s bewildered eyes and the pixelated photo of herself, head tilted back and mask exposing the bottom half of her face. She can’t deny it in any sense because her nose is still swollen and Nayeon’s eyes are flitting down to the moles scattered around her lips that match the photo perfectly. She sighs out a heavy breath and her tired eyes begin to droop before she answers.

“I think we should talk.”

Mina doesn’t ask Jihyo for privacy. In fact, she does the opposite. She guides Nayeon to sit in the living room as she explains everything and Jihyo thinks that maybe Mina is drawing strength from her presence, so she sits up straighter and stops wincing every time her foot turns.

Nayeon, to her credit, listens with rapt attention despite the fact that she looks about ten words from passing out. She doesn’t interrupt as Mina explains everything she can about Supers in the most condensed way possible. She tells her that most, ( _but not all!)_ attend an academy in some secluded part of the word where they live for seven years and are trained in everything from morals to how to kill someone—the irony of which is not missed by them. She tells her what her powers are and what Jihyo’s are, touches on the Superhero Association that is responsible for managing the worst of the worst dangers in the world, how Supers register with them once they’re adults and Nayeon says that it sounds a lot like the military— _she’s not wrong_ , Jihyo thinks. When Mina finally falls silent, spent from the physical exertion and now from her own emotional turmoil, Nayeon simply stands up and hugs her.

“I can’t believe you two losers are famous Superheroes and I didn’t even know.”

And then the rest falls into place.

When Nayeon finds out about Sana, she asks if Sana can absorb her power of humour and gives a smug _“didn’t think so,”_ that has everyone rolling their eyes because it’s the most Nayeon thing she could possibly say while Sana is buzzing with enough of Jihyo’s electricity to kill someone. She calls Momo a hothead and tells Jihyo to say hi to Thor on her behalf and it’s enough proof that she’s settled into place as a normie amongst Supers. Jihyo notices that there’s a new shimmer of something proud in Mina’s eyes when she looks at her girlfriend (a development that took place some two days after Mina’s identity was exposed.)

Everything feels like it’s finding its place in Jihyo’s life. Maybe it’s this fact that should’ve warned her about what was to come.

[…]

The peak of summer came and went as the heat tamed itself into something manageable in preparation for September’s approach. Jihyo and Sana walk toward the field ( _their_ field,) with their fingers interlaced and easy smiles on their faces. It’s quiet tonight, quiet enough for them to hear crickets singing and trains whistling in the distance. Jihyo skips and giggles and swings Sana’s hand in hers as she makes the streetlights flicker to a song that neither of them know the title of. Sana dances along anyway—she always would, Jihyo will eventually learn.

Something feels off when they fall into the grass that’s like a second home. Sana feels like she’s floating in the distance when Jihyo is so used to her being absolutely present, hanging off of every sound and sight and feeling of the moment because _god forbid_ she miss anything important. Like Jihyo sneezing or Jihyo laughing or Jihyo turning into a blushing mess on the other end of her casual flirting.

When Jihyo spares her a glance, Sana’s eyes are fixed on the moon.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She asks tentatively. Sana’s eyes drift to her own like she’s helpless to Jihyo’s pull and Jihyo distantly thinks about how earth grounds electricity.

“I—” Sana sighs. “I’ve been given a choice,” she says, eyes never leaving Jihyo’s. “Can you help me?”

The question wedges itself into Jihyo’s heart and splits it open, unleashing something she isn’t sure she’s ready to deal with yet. She pushes it down and nods despite herself.

“Momo… she told me she was sent here partially because she had been asking to come and partially because the Association wants me on official missions now that I’ve graduated high school.” Sana’s eyes rake over every inch of Jihyo’s face in a repeated cycle, watching like she can read Jihyo’s thoughts by the slightest twitch of her facial expression and, really, she might be able to.

“But… you’re not going to university anymore?” She feels dumbfounded. Confused because her and Sana have had this conversation more than once and Sana had always been set on staying.

“That’s the choice,” Sana says, corner of her mouth lifting into a sad smile that looks horribly out of place when Jihyo is so used to seeing vibrance pouring from her lips.

Jihyo lets herself think before she speaks. She thinks about Sana, about what she’s come to know that Sana loves, what Sana craves. She thinks about the way Sana’s eyes light up when she talks about becoming a college student, thinks about how they spent two hours on a campus tour just last week.

And then she thinks about the spark in Sana’s eyes when she tells Jihyo about the time she took down ten men in ten minutes. She thinks about how Sana looks so whole and complete when she does what she was born to do, when she’s fighting for good and innocence and a world where everyone can be afforded the chance to laugh in a way that makes the stars twinkle. She thinks about how this would happen sooner or later, and how she refuses to hold Sana to one city when Sana is more important than Earth itself.

“You should go,” she says. And it’s the strangest thing, the way the ground doesn’t break apart and swallow her whole like she thinks it will. Sana eyes are still searching, frantically darting around Jihyo’s face. There are so many things Jihyo wishes she had said, things that would be unfair to utter into the night now, while Sana looks on the verge of tears in the pretty yellow sweater that Jihyo loves to steal.

“But you and Mina—”

“Will be joining you when we graduate, less than year,” Jihyo grabs Sana’s hands; a promise. “You have to save the world. Besides, we’ll always be partners,” she adds with a half-smile that she hopes lightens the mood. Sana still looks conflicted, like she doesn’t believe Jihyo’s words. Maybe because Jihyo’s voice is shaking and she’s not entirely sure she believes what she’s saying either. But it needs to happen, they both know it. She says: “do you trust me?” _(do you love me?)_

Sana answers: “yes.”

“Then you have to believe me when I say you need to go.” _(because I think I’ll love you until the day I die.)_

When Sana wraps her in a hug despite the awkward way their elbows dig in the ground, it feels a lot like goodbye and a lot like acceptance.

Jihyo allows herself two days of crying after Sana leaves. After her and Momo stand in front of Mina, Jihyo and Nayeon with tears in their eyes and watery laughter. Jihyo breaks the tension, says _“this is so dramatic, we’ll see you soon,”_ and everybody pretends that they don’t see the tears that drip from her eyes and down Sana’s back when they hug for a minute too long. Momo hugs her, too. Her secure arms wrap around Jihyo in a way that feels like an apology, and she gives Momo a smile that says _it’s okay_ , because it is. Because Momo isn’t some horrible person that’s stealing Sana away from her. She’s only handing Sana the life she was meant to live all wrapped up in a bow and Jihyo was just foolish enough to fall in love with her before it happened.

Two days. That’s it.

When she steps out of her bedroom on day three with a smile on her face, pulling Mina out of the door and toward school, Mina only squeezes her hand tighter and hopes Jihyo doesn’t fall apart amidst her façade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihi! there's a part two for this that's going to be posted soon-ish, i'm just wrapping it up and it got too long to fit it all into one part, and then maybe a prologue on mihyo's years in the academy.
> 
> the next part is quite a bit heavier, things get worse before they get better but i promise it's a happy ending !! normally the things i write are quite dialogue-heavy, so this style is a little new to me and i hope i managed to make it interesting 😭 pls let me know how u like it so far! sorry in advance for any mistakes and pls ignore my shit summary i had no idea how to describe this


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be warned: this is 13k words, has bare minimum framework, and is kind of just a culmination of ideas i had as i got deeper and deeper into this plot

Sana gets busy.

Jihyo hears about her more in the news than she does from the notifications on her phone that Sana had specifically set to some Ariana Grande song, one that Jihyo never bothered to change. She hears about the invincible woman and her inferno partner that have saved countless lives and Jihyo wonders still if it would have been selfish to ask Sana to stay and save hers instead.

It would be, she knows, and it’s an ugly feeling that creeps up on her when she’s alone and staring at her phone, waiting for the call that never comes. She feels selfish and unlike herself and it hurts to think that the resentment she felt after being abandoned by her parents is sparking itself alive again, this time directed at Sana. It festers in her chest and only grows with each night that passes, each night where the stars don’t speak to her the way Sana does, where the moon looks at her blankly, like she’s saying _“I miss her too.”_ Each night that her phone doesn’t ring and Sana begins to feel like a figment of her imagination. She knows she can’t be, knows Sana is as real as the heart in her chest and the air in her lungs, Sana is an inevitable force that is as real as the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon. But she is as perfect as a fabled thing, too, as something that Jihyo believed to only exist in stories, someone so full of life and love, someone that can heal the soul just by speaking long enough, someone who is so painfully good that they simply cannot exist at all.

Jihyo wonders sometimes, in the dark hours filled with silence and nothingness, if she hasn’t made Sana up completely on her own.

“Good morning,” Mina greets as she pours two mugs of coffee. Jihyo hums in appreciation, pulling warmth from the liquid in her hands.

“Morning,” she mumbles sleepily.

“Are you hungry?”

“Sleepy.”

“You don’t want food?”

“No.”

Mina sighs, and Jihyo’s heart skips a beat in nervousness.

“Jihyo,” she says softly. “Eat with me, please?” Jihyo looks up and sees the concern etched into Mina’s eyes like it’s been there for days and she feels so stupidly selfish for not noticing it earlier.

“Can you make bacon, too?” She lets herself ask tentatively, smiling only when Mina does and feeling just a little bit lighter than she did when she woke up.

But there’s something heavy weighing on Mina’s shoulders that Jihyo can see in all of her movements, a strain that she can’t fix, not on her own, and guilt twists at her insides as she begins to realize that she hasn’t had a proper conversation with Mina since Sana left.

“Hey, Mina?” She calls gently, waiting for her friend to turn around. Mina does, flips the bacon onto a plate and turns to give Jihyo her undivided attention. Something about it makes Jihyo feel even guiltier. “How are you?” She asks, feels stupid immediately and wishes she had better words to approach this situation. But Mina’s eyes soften, and she steps closer, places the plate between them as she takes a bite out of a piece of bacon.

“I’m not good.” It’s the honest truth that makes Jihyo’s pulse rapidly speed up and she wonders if she can be as brave. “But I will be, I think. Eventually,” Mina says as she gestures to the plate and Jihyo feels like it’s her turn as she picks up her own piece. “How are you, Jihyo?”

“I’m—” she sighs. “I’m not good, either.” And Jihyo knows she shouldn’t look up, knows she should keep her eyes fixed on her lap if she wants to keep her composure, but she can feel Mina’s eyes on her, and her gaze is lifting before she can stop herself.

“It’s okay to feel like that, Ji,” Mina promises when their eyes finally meet, and the words feel like the final blow to the dam that had been holding her feelings together and tears spill from her eyes before she can put her piece of bacon back on the plate. Mina’s at her side in the same instant, holding Jihyo together like she’s an expert at it.

Jihyo thinks she must be.

They’re late to school that day, and then Mina decides they’re going to take the day off and she holds Jihyo until her eyes run dry and her lips are able to form a smile again. They talk, too, sometimes. They talk about school and Nayeon and Momo, about Mina’s parents and stories from the academy, and, eventually, they talk about Sana. She tells Mina everything that’s been eating at her mind like a disease in the dark and she feels nauseous. Mina wraps Jihyo in her arms as she talks and lets her pour her feelings into their embrace, from her parents to Sana to Jihyo’s own self-hatred. Jihyo talks about how it hurts, how every night feels like a battle in itself, how she feels like she found a missing piece of her soul, just to have it taken back so cruelly. She tells Mina how Sana’s absence feels like being abandoned again and she can’t do anything to fight the resentment tearing at the walls of her heart because it was her fault, in the end, she pushed Sana to leave.

It all hurts, after that day, like a scab that is picked at until it’s rawer and more painful than the initial wound.

It hurts so much that, one day (night,) when Jihyo is laying in the field ( _their_ field,) staring up at the stars that still don’t shine as bright as Sana’s eyes, and when she hears a rush of wind somewhere behind her, when she smells fresh laundry and a little bit of lavender, she starts crying before Sana can push the _“boo!”_ off of the tip of her tongue. Instead, Sana scrambles to the ground and pulls Jihyo into her arms and rocks them back and forth while she hums a tune that neither of them have heard before.

“I’m sorry,” Jihyo says once the sobs have subsided and her breathing has evened out from the storm of gasps escaping her chest. Sorry because of the anger she felt that Sana was oblivious to, or sorry because this is not how she imagined her reunion with the girl she loves to be after almost three months of silence, she’s not sure. Sana presses three kisses to the side of her head and, if she had any more strength, Jihyo would’ve recoiled at the affection that she doesn’t deserve.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Sana whispers, holds Jihyo tighter. “I’m so sorry, Hyo.” And Jihyo looks up when she feels something damp fall on her cheek, horrified by the sight of tears falling from Sana’s earth eyes. She reaches up to glide her thumbs under her eyes, gentle and caring as she presses a kiss in their wake.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“There’s fault in doing nothing at all,” Sana says, whimpers, almost. Jihyo curls herself further into her lap as they both allow themselves the luxury of being together in silence, just for tonight.

They walk slowly back to the house because there’s an unspoken, desperate desire to draw out the time they get together until Sana inevitably has to leave again. Jihyo feels the hours, minutes, seconds dripping through the cracks in her fingers and it feels so much like holding water in her hands that she almost asks Mina if she’s able to freeze time. She doesn’t ask, doesn’t want to see the pity on Mina’s face at her words.

She wraps her fingers around Sana’s instead and lets time fall away as it pleases.

[…]

Sana left again the next day, when the sun’s light began to kiss the clouds and the messy wisps of its figure began to peek behind the mountains. Jihyo was left with a hug and a weight on her shoulders that she didn’t know if she could bear.

Mina notices the shift before Jihyo does.

She notices the way Jihyo eats less, trains harder. She watches warily as Jihyo takes off into the night to battle her demons in the form of senseless criminals, and Jihyo knows she feels entirely helpless. Because, even at her worst, Jihyo has never locked the Mina-shaped doorway through the walls of her heart, never shied away from the girl she felt tethered to. It had been Mina and Jihyo since they were ten years old and now it feels like Mina and the shell of her best friend.

“Oh, you’re home,” Jihyo says, half-surprised, half-panicked to see Mina’s face. Mina ignores the hurt panging in her chest at the reaction as she grabs a bottle of juice from the fridge, despite the fact that she came into the kitchen for toast.

“Yeah, Nayeon got roped into a last-minute study group,” she answers absently, digging through the fridge for something to eat because Jihyo is using the toaster and there’s been an unspoken line between the two of them for weeks and Mina is scared of what will happen if she crosses it.

“Oh…” Jihyo trails off, and then, “I think I’ll go out tonight.”

“You’re wearing pajamas,” Mina says incredulously, as she finally gives up the act and closes the fridge. “And you’re making a sandwich. Why are you avoiding me?” She asks, because she’s tired of feeling like Jihyo is a stranger and she’s tired of having to walk on eggshells and she’s tired of being _tired_.

“Mina…” Jihyo starts, and Mina can tell that she’s about to deny it, about to say she didn’t mean to make it seem like that and Mina puts her hands up in front of her.

“Just, stop, Hyo,” she pleads. “Just tell me what’s wrong, just tell me what I can do, what this is about, _something_.”

“Mina, stop,” Jihyo sighs.

“No.”

Jihyo looks up, finally meeting her eyes when she hears the tone in her voice and Mina stands straighter.

“Is this about Sana? You can talk to me, Jihyo, you know that. I can’t help, or do what you need me to do if you don’t talk to—”

“I don’t need you!” Jihyo shouts, eyes wide and desperate as the toaster pops early and the lights begin to flicker and Mina swallows down her fear to step forward.

“Ji, it’s okay,” she says quietly, reaching out despite the sparks that are coming to life unconsciously on Jihyo’s fingers.

“It’s not okay!” Jihyo shouts again. “Just stop, please, just stop,” she cries, and Mina stops in her tracks.

“Okay,” she surrenders, “I’m sorry.”

Jihyo’s gone out the back door before she can finish her sentence and the lights in the kitchen suddenly feel too bright for Mina’s tear-filled eyes.

So, they don’t talk about it, because every time Mina tries to bring it up, Jihyo’s eyes flicker with desperation in time with the lights of the house and they both fear that the older girl’s emotional instability may end up with their home in flames.

They don’t talk about it, but Mina follows Jihyo on every death-run in the middle of the night, and they don’t talk about it but Jihyo’s sobs reach Mina’s room every night, and _they don’t talk about it_ , but they both know Jihyo wouldn’t make it out of most nights alive if it weren’t for Mina’s unwavering loyalty.

They don’t talk about it.

Mina wishes they did.

“Behind you!” She hears from her left and, with the reflexes instilled in her from years of training, she whips around and catches the fist that’s centimetres away from her face. She blinks once, twice, watches as her fist tightens with Superhuman strength and as his fist pops in places that aren’t natural, sees him crumple to the ground before she hops back to Jihyo’s side.

It’s an armed robbery that they really, honestly, hadn’t even been looking for. Mina was content with walking alongside Jihyo in silence as they sipped hot chocolate, happy that she had managed to get her friend to relax just for one night.

Of course, things are never that simple. Jihyo had caught sight of the men with guns glistening in the moonlight and she _had_ to trail them all the way to a jewelry store on main street. Mina was helpless, following along because there was really no other option.

It’s an easy task, as it turns out. The men are fumbling and inexperienced and they have no strategy to the way they fight, using brute force instead of agility and throwing themselves at the two Supers any chance they get. Jihyo sparks fear in their chests, literally, while Mina finally gets to put to use the new fighting techniques she had been practicing. She figures that’s enough of a reason to not write this night off as a total bore.

When it’s all said and done, and the only sounds echoing in the building are Jihyo and Mina’s heavy breaths, Mina tries.

“Are you okay?” She dares to ask, because Jihyo is slumped over on the stairs outside with her face in her hands and Mina has never quite seen her so bare and vulnerable. She bends down, thinks about wrapping her in a hug, but there are still wisps of electricity dancing around on the surface of her skin and Mina’s heart pangs as she remembers the way Sana would absorb the residual energy that Jihyo couldn’t seem to swallow back down on the worst days. She wonders if she could—

“Don’t,” Jihyo warns, sensing Mina’s hand as it approaches her shoulders. “It’ll hurt you.”

“Talk to me, Hyo,” she asks, _begs,_ because she wants so desperately to be able to soak up whatever hurt Jihyo is feeling, the way she’s wanted to every single day since they met. Mina thinks that maybe Jihyo hasn’t changed so much, is still the little girl that was terrified of her own abilities, the one that would cry into her pillow on the third Sunday of every month.

When Jihyo finally lifts her head, her eyes are flashing white-blue and Mina’s breath stutters at the sight. “Mina, I—”

Mina has only looked death in the eyes once before; when her mother and father came stumbling through the door of their home with a man she didn’t recognize, when she was only nine years old and still powerless, when her mother had blood that didn’t belong to her smeared across her abdomen and her father had a hand covering the stranger’s chest, covering a gaping hole where his heart should’ve been. Mina had been nine at the time, but looking in the stranger’s eyes, seeing the lively brown turn to pale grey, she knew that he was dying atop the couch where she used to play tea party.

Now, her ears ring and static clouds her vision from the startling _bang_ that shredded the serenity of the night. Now, seventeen and powerful and _shaking_ , she watches in horror as chocolate brown floods Jihyo’s once white-blue eyes, watches her slump forward with the impact of the bullet that tore through her abdomen. She searches frantically for the source, turns and sees one of the men in the building had stumbled over while they were distracted and used his last ounce of strength to fire a round into Jihyo’s back. She isn’t a murderer, but a thousand ways to kill him slowly flash through her mind before she pushes it aside in order to move Jihyo on her back.

“Hey, Hyo,” she calls, shaking Jihyo slightly as she rips her jacket to use it as a compress. “Stay with me, okay?” She watches as Jihyo’s eyes dart around the night sky in a haze before settling on her face, familiarity washing through her panicked expression.

“Hi, Minari,” Jihyo mumbles between deep, wheezing breaths. Mina feels tears burning her eyes, an ache in her throat that is begging to be let out into a scream as her best friend lays limp in her arms. She puts her hands on Jihyo’s wounds, braces herself for the agony of taking her pain, and she inhales deeply.

Nothing comes.

She looks at Jihyo’s dazed face, down to her abdomen, her own hands shaking and soaked in blood as she focuses harder and harder on what she’s done countless times before.

“Why can’t I—” she murmurs, voice barely a whisper as she tries again. “Why can’t I fucking—” Jihyo cuts her off with a cough, blood trickling from her mouth like the tears she refuses to shed. “ _Why can’t I help you?”_ Mina cries, tears dripping onto the pavement as Jihyo takes another heaving breath.

“Because,” she coughs, “it doesn’t hurt, Mina.” Mina’s eyes snap up to Jihyo’s face, trace over her weak smile, her kind eyes, the blood staining her teeth. Her heart lurches.

“What—what do you mean…” she trails off, thinly veiled fear lingering in her voice. “You’re not—Jihyo you’re not dying. You’re not, you _can’t_ ,” Mina wails, hands sticky and shaking violently where they hold Jihyo’s face.

“I love you,” Jihyo says, “and I’m sorry.” And her eyes are greying too fast for Mina to comprehend.

It’s not supposed to end like this. Not here, not outside of an inexperienced robbery that took them less than twenty minutes to clear out, not before Jihyo got to be with Sana again. Jihyo’s supposed to go out in a ball of flames after a long life of saving people, something larger than the universe, that will be talked about forever. Jihyo’s supposed to be immortalized in the heart of the world and all Mina can do now is lay over her and cry as her other half takes one last weak, shaking breath.

“ _No!”_ She cries, wrapping Jihyo tighter in her arms. It feels like lifetimes flash beneath her trembling eyelids as she sees images of a younger Jihyo, who has always held the weight of the world on her shoulders, who has always needed a hand to hold when it gets too dark for even the bravest of hearts.

There’s an inexplicable feeling in Mina’s chest, a type of warmth that radiates out from her heart toward her fingertips. Later, she’ll wish she opened her eyes, paid attention to the way her hands begin to glow and something golden pours from her veins and down through Jihyo’s wounds. She’ll wish she got to see the way Jihyo’s skin folded over itself, mending the holes like they never existed in the first place. But, for now, all she can do is hold on and grieve and cry because _this can’t be happening_.

It’s silent. The street had cleared out in a flurry of panic and fear when the fighting began. Mina can faintly hear crickets singing and trains whistling over the deafening sound of her tears falling onto Jihyo’s skin.

And then, Jihyo breathes.

It’s a sharp gasp followed by a fit of coughing as she bolts upright and Mina nearly screams in surprise. Jihyo pats around her body, like she isn’t entirely sure this is real, like she should be a floating soul rather than a solid entity. Mina doesn’t think twice before wrapping her arms around her.

“You’re alive,” she cries into Jihyo’s neck. “How are you— _you’re alive_ ,” she repeats, stunned and tearful as Jihyo rocks her gently despite her own confusion.

“I’m alive…” Jihyo mumbles. “Mina, I’m alive because of you,” she says, pulling back and looking into Mina’s eyes. “You healed me.”

Mina’s eyes flit down to Jihyo’s stomach and she can’t stop the quiet gasp she lets out when she sees unmarred skin where there were bullet wounds just moments ago.

“I did that?” She asks, quiet and unbelieving. “I just felt so desperate to keep you alive. I _need you alive_ ,” she stresses, finally tearing her eyes away from the skin and up to Jihyo’s eyes. “You can’t leave me alone, Ji, ever.”

Jihyo’s eyes fill with tears that she’s unable to fight back, and she pulls Mina into her embrace as she promises: “It’s us, forever.”

[…]

Sometimes, Nayeon and Mina fight.

Sometimes it’s when Nayeon is so overwhelmed with exam schedules and due dates and Mina shows up to date night with a limp and fifteen stitches going up her arm, when Nayeon is so tired and scared and she just _can’t deal with it_. On those days, Jihyo knows, Mina lets her scream and cry and storm out, because she didn’t ask for any of this and they’re both still navigating the intricacies of their vastly different lives.

Other times, it’s because Nayeon ate the last cookie and refuses to admit it.

No matter the reason, Nayeon always comes barging back through their front door with her heart in her hands, ready to forgive or apologize and grow and _keep loving_.

Sometimes, when Jihyo lays in Mina’s bed watching _Sailor Moon_ and they hear the front door open and shut, she imagines that it’s Sana. Sometimes (most of the time,) she waits with her heart in her throat to hear Sana’s perpetual whistling and soft footfalls as her socked feet climb the stairs to find her. It’s always Nayeon, though, with heavy steps and loud sighs because her presence demands attention.

“Mina isn’t home,” she tells Nayeon one day when the girl locks the door behind herself.

“I know,” Nayeon replies, voice gentle and almost, _almost,_ timid. Jihyo looks at her skeptically. “I wanted to hang out with you, if that’s cool.” And, in all the time Jihyo’s known Nayeon, she’s never seen her look as nervous and unsure of herself as she does in this moment.

“Of course it’s cool,” she answers, feels comfort in the way Nayeon’s shoulders visibly relax in relief.

Neither of them are quite sure what to do after that. Despite considering each other more than good friends, but less than best friends, they’ve never spent time alone without Mina acting as a buffer to fill in the areas where Jihyo and Nayeon don’t meet. Jihyo reaches out a hand, offers Nayeon the other half of her toast with jam, and they both settle into the presence of each other as they take a seat on the couch. Jihyo stops flipping through channels when she hears Nayeon’s excited noise upon seeing some cartoon that Jihyo doesn’t recognize. _Rugrats_ , the television guide reads, and she figures she doesn’t mind much either way.

It’s quiet for a beat, maybe ten, as they both focus on the toast and the contents of the episode on-screen. Jihyo thinks that this is comfort in all its glory, not being lonely, but not having boundaries pushed and—

“Mina told me about what happened at that jewelry store last week.” _Of course_. Jihyo wants to scoff, wants to roll her eyes and run away, hide under the sheets in her bedroom if only to avoid Nayeon’s caring eyes boring into the side of her head.

“Is that why you’re here?” She bites out. It’s harsher than she intended, and she winces when Nayeon leans back a fraction of an inch.

“Of course not.” But, Nayeon is Nayeon, and she doesn’t ever back down, not really, at least. “She told me not to bring it up, actually.”

“Then why did you?” Jihyo thinks Nayeon can hear the tears building up in her throat, making each word she speaks wet and sad and so horribly embarrassing.

“I don’t know.” Nayeon pauses, twists her fingers in her hands and turns to fully face her despite that fact that Jihyo is staring at the ground like she wishes it would swallow her whole. “I just realized that if you didn’t—um.” Jihyo looks up when Nayeon stutters over her words, listens as she takes a deep, shaky breath. “If you didn’t come back from it, I would’ve never forgiven myself for not telling you how cool I think you are.” The words are light. They’re meant to be playful, maybe, in another timeline where Jihyo hadn’t died for three minutes and Nayeon didn’t have to worry about her girlfriend not being there when the sun rises. It dawns on Jihyo slowly, like ice melting and revealing a truth that was always right in front of her, that Nayeon might worry about her a fraction of the way she worries about Mina. Now when she looks up, the everlasting mischief in Nayeon’s eyes has been washed away by unshed tears and Jihyo’s breath is caught in her throat.

“I think you’re cool, too.” It’s as close to an _I love you_ as friends like Jihyo and Nayeon may ever get, the way they hug and laugh and pretend that they weren’t on the verge of tears ten seconds ago. Jihyo realizes then that Nayeon may have wedged herself into a home in Jihyo’s heart the day they met, and only now, on a night of sad truths and hugs that speak the words they aren’t strong enough to say aloud, chooses to turn the lights on.

[…]

Sana starts to call her more often after that day at the jewelry store. Jihyo has a strong feeling that Mina must’ve mentioned what happened to her, or maybe even Nayeon. Regardless, Sana starts to call her. Jihyo isn’t sure if it makes her feel better or worse, seeing Sana, pixelated and fuzzy on the screen of her cellphone as they talk about their days like any of this is normal. She doesn’t know if it brings her more comfort than not hearing from Sana at all, because it hurts to know that she can’t reach out and trace shapes onto her skin the way she so desperately wants, hurts that the shitty camera of Sana’s phone could never do her earth eyes justice. 

Jihyo still answers. 

Sometimes, as soon as she hits the green circle, Sana’s bright face greets her, heavy breathing and blood still falling fresh from the cut above her brow as she rushes off onto a tangent about the epic fight they just won and Jihyo listens with fondness aching in her chest. On those days, it feels worth it—the distance and the heartbreak—to see Sana look so alive even if it’s through a screen. 

Other days, like today, Jihyo can see the bags under Sana’s eyes, the drowsiness that swims in them like pools that Jihyo will drown in if she looks for too long. Days like this, she sees the weight settling onto Sana’s shoulders, the reality of being barely eighteen and too strong for her own good.

“So, me and Mina think that if I get better at controlling the air like you do, I can figure out how to combine it with my electricity to create a sort of barrier or shield,” Jihyo explains to Sana, who’s looking at her with rapt attention despite the way she blinks sleepily. On days like this, Jihyo feels selfish for being granted the fortune of simply looking at Sana. “Are you tired? You can go, if you want,” she says quietly, almost like she doesn’t actually want Sana to hear (she doesn’t.)

Sana sits up straight at the words and tries her best not to yawn. “What I want—" she yawns anyway, “is to talk to you.” Jihyo’s heart flutters at the admission and she busies herself with retying her ponytail, only to hide the blush that grows on her cheeks. 

“I must be boring you,” she says in a moment of insecurity that surprises even herself. “You’re, like, one of the biggest heroes in the world right now and you’re listening to my childish ideas.” Sana’s brows furrow with something that Jihyo can’t decipher and she wishes she hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Your ideas aren’t childish,” Sana says firmly. “You’re one of the brightest minds out there. And, besides, you could never bore me, Hyo.” The words pour carefully from Sana’s mouth like she’s moulding it into something that will make Jihyo believe her. “Actually,” she continues, “this is the most interesting conversation I’ve had all week.”

“ _Hey!”_ Jihyo hears Momo’s indignant shout from somewhere in the distance and smiles. 

“Excluding Momo,” Sana adds, rolling her eyes half-heartedly. “All the technical talk I’ve been hearing from the Association is killing me. I miss you, and Mina-chan, and Nayeon. I miss home.” Jihyo feels her heart clench uncomfortably at Sana’s words, feels guilt that shouldn’t belong to her and she can’t stop herself from asking:

“Do you regret it? Leaving?” 

Time stands still and Jihyo hears Sana’s breath hitch. For what feels like eternity, the only two people that exist are Sana and Jihyo and the only sounds they can hear are that of their breathing falling into a syncopated rhythm that rings foreign in their ears. 

“Sometimes,” Sana admits. “Do you regret it?” And then: “Telling me to go.”

“Sometimes.” Everyday.

Sana looks at her with gentle eyes that tell Jihyo she may have heard her unspoken words anyway, and she swallows down the nerves before shifting the subject away from what hurts more than a bullet wound. “So,” she starts, jittery and awkward and Sana’s smile reaches her eyes, the way they always do when Jihyo gets flustered. _Maybe some things haven’t changed,_ she thinks, hopeful and bright. Things like Sana’s laugh that flutters along with fireflies in the night sky, like her habit of whistling when it’s silent because silence is _not_ Sana’s friend, like Sana’s ability to speak until her face goes blue when she’s too excited to take a breath. She thinks that maybe things that make Sana, _Sana_ will never truly change, and the realization settles warmly in her chest. “Where are you two headed, anyway?” She asks as she takes in the fact that the other two Supers seem to be riding in some sort of train.

Sana’s face contorts into a half-grimace before she looks out the window and sighs. “Well, we’re about to hit London right now.” Despite the older girl’s reaction, Jihyo pushes.

“What’s the mission? Trafficking? Gang activity?”

Sana’s eyes dart around the screen and Jihyo knows if they were face to face, every inch of her skin would tingle with the pressure of Sana’s gaze. “Sort of,” she answers cryptically, eyes still scanning Jihyo’s face and she does her best to avoid giving away whatever confusion she’s feeling.

“Sort of?”

“Well, it’s trafficking, I think. Technology trafficking? Is that a thing?”

“Technology trafficking?” Jihyo repeats with a raised eyebrow. Sana’s behaviour makes her stomach twist in ways that feel helpless and she doesn’t know if she needs to know more or less about whatever this mission is.

“I mean—it’s, like,” Sana mutters a few more stalling words before her eyes catch Jihyo’s through the screen and she winces. “We’re assigned to stop Park Jinyoung from getting his weapons to a partner in London.” _Park Jinyoung,_ Jihyo repeats in her head a few times, tasting the name with bitter familiarity. And then it clicks. And then her blood runs cold.

“Park Jinyoung, as in the founder of JYP Labs, as in _Dr. Hydra?_ ” She squeaks out.

“Bingo,” Sana says through a scrunched-up face, bracing for impact.

“Sana, that’s a suicide mission.”

“It’s not,” she argues weakly. “He won’t be there. We just have to get in, sabotage the handoff, and get out.”

“He’ll know who you are. You can’t interfere with the business of an infamous Supervillain without backlash, you know that.”

Sana is quiet after that. She looks contemplative and Jihyo can’t feel her eyes on her anymore. She shivers, wants to apologize for some reason, say _I’m sorry, let’s talk about something else_. But Sana is dancing with the devil and all Jihyo can do is hope she comes out unscathed.

“You know I love you, right?” Sana asks gently. Jihyo’s heart skips a beat despite having heard the words come from Sana’s mouth a thousand times before, because Sana loves _everyone_ , and Jihyo is just one of what must be millions that have fallen too hard. This time, though, it feels charged with something different and she’s too tired, too scared to ask what.

“I know,” she says instead. “I love you too.” A pause, before; “and I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Doubting you. I know you’re more than capable, really. You’re great.” Jihyo sighs heavily before shedding the weight on her shoulders. “I just worry about you.”

Sana smiles at her and it’s full of mischief and youth and Jihyo feels like she can breathe again. “Aw, Jihyo-chan,” Sana coos. “You think I’m great?”

Jihyo laughs, loud and free and, for a moment, she’s teleported back to the summer, in the grass of their field with Sana’s hands in hers and stars that shine only for them. “The greatest, actually.”

[…]

Just as soon as Jihyo feels like she has everything, she feels the rug pulled beneath her feet and she’s not quite sure how to get up anymore.

They don’t hear from Sana or Momo for two weeks. Jihyo has the news on twenty-four hours a day, and she figures she would’ve withered into nothing if it weren’t for Mina and Nayeon forcing her to eat and tucking a blanket around her shoulders when the exhaustion took her hostage from her spot on the couch. There’s no news about the JYP Labs handoff, and Jihyo doesn’t know if that means the mission went off without a hitch, or if Momo and Sana didn’t stand a chance. It’s terrifying, the ice-cold fear that started in her stomach slowly curling its way around her veins and rooting her to the ground until she feels like she’ll shatter completely if she tries to move. 

Mina’s parents come home on the thirteenth day of silence from the pair and Jihyo bursts into tears immediately upon seeing them. She doesn’t exactly know why, maybe it’s because being reminded of something so permanent in her life amidst the uncertainty of the fates of her friends makes her understand just how scared she is. She doesn’t know, but she does know that she cries until she succumbs to exhaustion and, when she wakes up, Mina’s mother greets her with a cup of tea and a smile that Jihyo thinks could cure even the deadliest of diseases.

“Hi, honey,” Mrs. Myoui greets, and Jihyo tries her best to muster up a convincing smile.

“Hi.” But her voice is fragile from tears and she thinks it was a futile effort.

“We have some news, good and bad,” the woman tells her carefully, but she looks hopeful and Jihyo draws strength from that as she sips on her tea and nods gently for her to continue. “The good news is that Momo and Sana succeeded in stopping the handoff, and the weapons are locked up with the Association now.” Jihyo feels pride swell in her chest, quietly, taking up as much space as it can when the rest of the air is charged with fear. “The bad news is that no one knows where they are.” Her heart drops, she can feel her hands shaking as the tea threatens to spill over and onto the couch and Mrs. Myoui takes it gently from her hands as she notices. “But, honey, there were really no signs of struggle,” the words don’t do much for Jihyo because her ears are pounding and everything sounds so far away, like reality is slipping from her grasp as she tries so desperately to hold on to the concern in the eyes of the woman who has acted like a mother in lieu of her own. “There’s a very real possibility that they’re okay, Jihyo.” She tries to focus on breathing, the in and out action that’s meant to be calming but instead makes her aware of the fact that her body isn’t absorbing enough oxygen with the rate her chest is rising and falling.

And then everything goes black.

When she wakes up, she’s in her bedroom. Her senses slowly start to shake the numbness of sleep as she takes in the moonlight filtering in from her window and the sound of the television from downstairs and the warmth coming from the body next to her and— _wait._

She turns her head so fast that she distantly thinks it could’ve spun right off of her neck, but then she sees her. There’s Sana lying next to her, hair sprawled across Jihyo’s pillow and soft features illuminated by the light of the moon and looking absolutely ethereal. Sana’s already awake, looking at her curiously and gently and Jihyo wants to cradle her face in her palms and never let her go. She reaches out then, watches as Sana’s eyes flutter when her fingers trace over her face, just to make sure she’s real. Her heart stutters in her chest at the warmth of Sana’s skin telling her that she’s here and real and _alive_.

“You’re here,” she whispers, scared to shatter the moment lest Sana be an illusion that dissipates like smoke in the air.

“I’m here,” Sana whispers back, like she feels the same.

“You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

Jihyo’s arms are around her in the next moment and the cracks in her heart fill with something that feels a lot like _love_. 

Neither of them are sure how long they stay like that, with Jihyo’s hands fisting the material of Sana’s sweater that smells like ash and blood and sorrow. Sana hugs her like she’ll disappear if she lets go and Jihyo lets her because, as scared as she was, she knows it’s nothing compared to what Sana _lived_ and the thought sends a pang through her chest as she lets her friend cry and cry and hurt and does her best to give off the fraction of strength she has left in her body.

When they do pull back, and when Jihyo brushes Sana’s hair out of her face, looks into her eyes that still twinkle with the secrets of the universe despite now knowing how dark those secrets truly are, she thinks she could fall in love with Sana a million times over and be okay with it.

“Where were you?” Jihyo finally builds the courage to ask, feels fear shoot through her body at the way Sana’s eyes harden and then soften again like she’s falling apart inside.

“We stopped the trade,” Sana starts, looking past Jihyo and at the wall of photos behind her, various pictures of Jihyo and Mina through the years, Sana’s own bright face and innocent smile reflected in images where her arms are wrapped around a cackling Nayeon and a pouting Momo. “It was hard, but we did it. Momo and I could take them. But they—um, I guess they figured out a way to harness Hydra’s poison and weaponize it and they got Momo by surprise. In her hip. It spread so fast, Hyo,” Sana whispers, tears pooling in her eyes and voice shaking with fear. “She couldn’t get up. Within seconds her legs were paralyzed. I don’t know if that was the intention, or if it didn’t work properly, but luckily it was _only_ her legs. She could still use her hands to fight and we—well, we won,” she laughs bitterly, a sound that Jihyo has never heard falling from her lips. “I couldn’t take her back to the Association, because you were right. He had people looking for us everywhere, Hyo. He still does. We didn’t know what to do so we hid and—and, it was getting worse,” Sana cries. “She was getting weaker, I knew, even though she told me it was just her legs. I panicked and I flew us here because Mina is a healer and we didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is she—” Jihyo can’t bring herself to ask questions that hold any weight, too scared for what the answer may be. She feels dread creeping up her spine as she looks into Sana’s watery eyes.

“I don’t know, they sent me up here and told me to rest, but I couldn’t sleep. We just got here about an hour ago,” Sana sniffles, reaching out to tuck Jihyo’s hair behind her ears. “Come with me?” She asks, moving to get up and holding a hand out for Jihyo to take. She does—take it, that is. She always would.

The first thing they hear when they open the bedroom door is a kettle whistling. The second is laughter. It’s a bright, rich sound that Jihyo hasn’t heard in two weeks and it settles in the air around them like a promise of something better. It’s coming from the living room, and Jihyo’s heart speeds up in anticipation when they round the corner.

She sees Momo, laid out on the couch with a lazy smile on her face. She sees Nayeon, tea in her hands as she tries to hold it out to a now-shrieking Momo’s lips, a shrill _“my legs are paralyzed, not my arms!”_ coming from her mouth as Nayeon laughs manically. She sees Mina, with her soft smile and kind eyes, gesturing for them to come closer. When Nayeon and Momo notice their presence, their laughter fades into welcoming grins and Jihyo feels like all the pieces of her heart are finally in place once more.

“Were you crying?” Momo asks skeptically as she takes in Sana’s puffy eyes.

“Shut up,” Sana mumbles, hiding behind Jihyo despite being taller than her.

“Aw, Satang,” Momo coos. “You were worried about me.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea.” Sana rolls her eyes before breaking the façade with a gentle smile.

“Well, don’t worry. Look,” Momo says before moving the blanket that covers her legs and wiggling her toes slightly. “Minari is a miracle worker.” Jihyo looks at Mina half in awe, half with pride, and Mina blushes under the attention of everyone in the room.

“It’s taking time,” she says apologetically. “I can only do so much at once before it starts to take a toll on me, but it’s working.”

“You’re amazing, Mina,” Sana promises, poking Momo’s toes annoyingly and asking, “can you feel that?” While Momo whines and asks Nayeon to beat her up.

“I’ll need you to stop bothering my patient,” Nayeon says in a deep, serious voice. Sana’s cackles seem to make the fire under the mantle roar louder and then Nayeon’s bunny teeth are poking out in a wide grin. “Momo-yah,” Nayeon turns to her. “How do you feel knowing you’re the first patient of my future medical career?”

“Terrified—”

“ _Hey!”_

“And Mina is the one treating me.”

“Mina is my girlfriend, what’s hers is mine.”

“And what’s yours is mine, right?” Mina chimes in with an amused smile toying at her lips.

“Whatever you say, honey,” Nayeon nods emphatically. Mina flicks her arm and giggles at the whine it elicits. “You all need to be nice to me because I’m the only non-Super.”

“You can just say normie,” Jihyo sighs.

“That feels derogatory.”

“It is,” Sana deadpans and Nayeon huffs and everything feels like it’s exactly where it’s meant to be.

They stay for two weeks, Sana and Momo. Mina spends the first few days alternating between healing Momo’s legs and sleeping, Nayeon stays at the house too because, despite her lack of abilities, she’s tied to their world just as much as the other four, and she’s too worried about Momo’s wellness to sleep on the nights that she does try staying in her dorm. Mina’s parents have a flight to catch the day after Sana and Momo’s arrival and they bid the group of girls farewell with something like genuine care and concern in their eyes. Despite the departure of the couple, the house feels full and alive and _so loud_ , Jihyo often pretends to complain, but it’s a welcome change from the chilly silence that had overcome the walls of the home for two weeks. It reminds her that the people she loves are here and healthy and _alive._

Sana doesn’t let go of Jihyo.

She’s clingy with Mina and Nayeon too, because Sana is Sana and she needs affection as much as she needs oxygen, but she holds Jihyo’s hand like she’s going to fade from reality if she lets go, wraps them both in a blanket at night like she’s trying to keep them attached to each other because she panics when she wakes up if Jihyo isn’t within arm’s reach. It hurts a little bit, if Jihyo’s honest. It hurts because she had spent so long thinking Sana had begun to forget about her when, really, Sana had been feeling just as lost without her, so lost that she doesn’t know what to do now that they’re together again for more than a few hours, have more than a shitty Facetime call.

It hurts, but it’s okay, because they’re together again. Even though the clock is ticking and they know it’s only a matter of time before Momo is healed enough to report back to the Association, before the duo has to face their demons again and leave behind their little family in what has become their safehouse.

Momo runs. Once her legs are fully functioning, she runs day and night until she starts to regain the muscle that had been chipped away by weeks of going unused. She comes through the house at random intervals, sweaty and tired, to grab food or a drink and then she’s gone again, and on the second day of running, Mina joins her.

Jihyo thinks that Mina and Momo are much more alike than anyone realizes, because Momo is still shy and hesitant despite her loud demeanor, Momo is kind and gentle in a way that could only rival Mina. She overheard them in the middle of the night once, when Mina had woken up and began to pour gold from her fingertips while she was still half asleep. She heard them talking about everything and nothing, about lives without abilities, asking what if they knew nothing about the world of Supers, and Jihyo began to believe that maybe all of them were much more alike than any of them realized.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jihyo hears from her left as she’s pulled gently from the depths of her mind. She turns to see Sana’s curious smile illuminated by streetlights and she thinks, _I could do it, right now, I could kiss her and tell her everything_. She doesn’t, because every reason that she has for why she _should_ tell her is also a reason for why she _shouldn’t,_ and it makes her swallow thickly. She shouldn’t tell her because Sana looks so absolutely kissable in the pretty yellow sweater that Jihyo loves to steal, and she shouldn’t tell her because Sana is whistling down the empty street in time with the fluttering of Jihyo’s heart, and she shouldn’t tell her because Sana is holding her hand like a lifeline that may fall flat if the pulses on their wrists disconnect. She shouldn’t tell her because Sana is looking at her like she’s in love with her, too, and because the world is unfair and because they’re leaving tomorrow.

She doesn’t tell her.

“My thoughts are worth more than a penny,” she says instead, indulging in the delighted giggle from the girl next to her.

“Hmm, a nickel, then?” Jihyo gasps and chases after Sana who lets out gleeful laughter with every step until they’re falling into each other on the familiar grass of their field. It’s growing, healthy and green from the spring season and it feels like home under their fingertips. Their chests heave as they even out their breathing and the gentle smiles are still etched onto their faces when Jihyo takes Sana’s hand in hers once more. She looks between them and watches as she lets small jolts of electricity curl around their conjoined hands before they dance up Sana’s arm and back again. Sana’s eyes flutter at the feeling, the way they always do when Jihyo plays with her lightning, and she sighs. “I missed that,” she says.

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Sana turns her head toward the sky and closes her eyes while she basks in Jihyo’s ministrations. “It feels cool.”

“Like what?” Jihyo asks.

“Like… like a million little kisses touching my skin. It’s cold, but warm at the same time. It feels like ice and then fire right after, and then it repeats,” Sana says in content, eyes still closed. Jihyo watches as she inhales and exhales and she lets her electricity trail over Sana’s face and down her other arm, absentmindedly, back and forth like the cycle of a wave kissing the shore before it pulls back and tries again. “It tickles, like that,” Sana giggles. “When it’s small fragments like this, it tickles.” Jihyo smiles at the sound of her voice before pulling the lighting back into her fingertips and throwing her arm over her eyes.

“Are you nervous? To leave?” Jihyo asks softly, listens to Sana’s breath get heavier for a second before evening out.

“No, I don’t think so.” Jihyo thinks it must be true. “I think I needed this, to come home. I needed to remember that, no matter how long we’re all apart, it’s always going to be us. I needed to remember that nothing will change.”

“We’ll always be here, maybe not physically,” Jihyo laughs, “but, when we need each other. We’ll find our way back,” she promises.

“Ji…” Sana trails off shakily. “I’m sorry.” Jihyo lowers the arm from across her face and turns to look at Sana, whose eyes are still fixed on the stars and the moon and all the blank space in between.

“You don’t have anything to—”

“I had time, before,” Sana cuts her off. Her eyes dart around the sky frantically the way they normally dart around Jihyo’s face, like she’s scared to understand the way Jihyo feels, this time, by watching her reaction. “I had time to call, and text, or maybe even come home for a night. But I didn’t.”

“What—why are you telling me this?” Jihyo asks, feels betrayal bubble up in her throat in a way that burns. It’s an ugly feeling, betrayal—feels like sleepless nights and days spent worrying all for naught and what’s worse is that Jihyo couldn’t take her eyes off of Sana’s beautiful face if she tried.

“I just…” Sana’s tearful voice breaks off and floats into the night. Jihyo waits. Because despite the anguish laying heavy in her throat, Sana is not a bad person. She waits, and waits, and then Sana’s voice washes the anguish down like a cool glass of water. “I wanted to, but—I was _scared_ , Hyo,” Sana says desperately, turns to finally look into Jihyo’s eyes. “I felt so out of my league on some missions, I thought I was going to die on most and I just… I just wanted you to be okay. You and Mina and Nayeon,” Sana admits, eyes red and watery and Jihyo grips her hand. “I thought that if I distanced myself, if I let you get used to living without me, you wouldn’t take it so hard if I didn’t make it home.”

The words resonate uncomfortably in Jihyo’s chest, fill her with a type of nausea that makes her want to turn her stomach inside out, lay the contents of it on the grass of their field, where so many happy memories are wistfully engraved into each green blade. She sits up, then, her tired muscles holding the weight of the world, and she feels Sana’s grip on her hand tighten frantically, as if she can keep Jihyo by her side forever if she just holds on _._

“Jihyo,” Sana whimpers, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t go, please, I’m _sorry_ , I—”

Jihyo does the only think she can bear to think about in that moment, with Sana crying in fear of Jihyo leaving her, with Sana admitting that she spent nights thinking she wouldn’t live to see another day, with Sana apologizing for making herself small and unimposing over the last months so as to soften the impact of her possible death.

She kisses her, the girl she loves, in the middle of their field, with the crickets singing and the trains whistling and Sana’s heart beating in tandem with her own.

If Sana is surprised, she doesn’t show it. She kisses Jihyo back like they’ve been doing this for lifetimes, holds Jihyo’s face in her hands like they were made to fit around her jaw, slots their lips together like the answer to all of their _what ifs_. It’s messy, the way tears drip down and they taste the salt of sorrow on each other’s lips, but there’s something else, something soft and gentle and warm and it feels like love. It feels like a year of feelings that seem to have stretched out over centuries, feels like the unbearable fondness that tugged at their chests from the day they met, feels like everything Jihyo associates with Sana wrapped up into the press of two girl’s lips as they let themselves pretend that they can guarantee a future where everything is okay.

When they pull away, panting and holding each other so close that their bodies meld together, Jihyo looks into Sana’s earth eyes and thinks she can see electricity dancing somewhere behind them. She smiles, something worth more than words in the moment, and smiles harder when Sana presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

They don’t talk about the kiss or its implications. Instead, Sana pulls Jihyo onto her feet and asks her to dance and Jihyo is helpless to the little pout that finds purchase on Sana’s lips.

“We look stupid,” Jihyo grumbles despite the way she rests her head on Sana’s shoulder.

“Who’s watching?” Sana counters, one hand running fingers through Jihyo’s hair and the other guiding her hips as they sway in sync to a silent song.

“The stars and the moon,” Jihyo answers playfully, smiles when Sana tuts chidingly.

“You should know, Jihyo-ssi, I talk to the moon,” the taller girl says seriously. “She says she envies the sun, because the sun gets to see you without restraint, but she’s given only a few hours with your beauty, if she’s lucky.” Jihyo’s breath catches at the words. “She told me she believes she’s never seen someone as beautiful as the girl with electricity in her veins. And, do you want to know a secret?”

“Yes,” Jihyo whispers, barely more than a stuttering breath brushing against Sana’s neck.

“I agree with her.”

They don’t talk about the kiss as they walk home, or as they fall asleep, or when Sana wakes up and brushes Jihyo’s hair out of her face and looks at her like she’s in love with her. They don’t talk about it when Sana is leaving, either, and it feels like a promise that Sana has to come back, has to follow her heart home again, so they can figure out whatever it is that they are.

“We’ll be back for graduation, at least,” Momo promises as a wailing Nayeon clings to her shoulders. This statement only seems to make the older girl cry harder and Momo looks at Mina desperately for help, but the other Super is shuffling closer to hide her crying face in Momo’s neck too. “I’ll try to stop by before that, even!” Momo tries again, but it’s useless as both girls hold onto her as they cry.

Jihyo and Sana watch the interaction, half-amused, half-confused at how close the three have gotten in the short time Sana and Momo have been staying with them. They figure it makes sense, because the only person that rivals Sana in loving people is Momo, and she must have more than enough room in her heart for two people as easy to love as Mina and Nayeon. They glance at each other with a questioning look before shrugging, and then Sana has a playful smile on her face that has Jihyo anticipating a teasing remark.

“What? No goodbye kiss?” She asks with a pout. Jihyo narrows her eyes at the girl, glancing to where Momo is still busy consoling Mina and Nayeon before she darts forward to press her lips against Sana’s cheek. The pout deepens and Jihyo grins.

“You have to come back for the real thing,” Jihyo says as she tries to take in every inch of Sana’s face before committing herself to weeks of empty beds and Facetime calls.

“Fine,” Sana answers, like she’s accepting a challenge and Jihyo feels her heart tingle in her chest. “Okay, Momo, we should get going,” Sana says reluctantly, eyes still on Jihyo’s.

“I’ll be back soon!” Momo promises as she squeezes Nayeon and Mina one more time before detangling herself from their arms and standing next to Sana.

“Why didn’t you hug _me_ like that, Nayeonnie? I’m—” Nayeon cuts Sana’s witty remark off as she darts forward to wrap her in a tearful hug too, and Jihyo pouts as she sees Sana’s eyes begin to water when she hugs her back.

“You’ll be back by graduation,” Mina says quietly, like she’s reassuring herself, and only then does Jihyo realize just how much Sana and Momo’s disappearance had taken a toll on each of them.

“Promise,” Momo and Sana say at the same time.

Then, in a moment of bravery or playfulness (or maybe; desperation to live life to the fullest because nobody knows what tomorrow holds,) Sana steps forward and presses a kiss to Jihyo’s cheek with a smile full of implications that make the younger girl dizzy. And then, just like that, they’re gone in a whirlwind of air and inferno and the other three stand awestruck in their absence.

“Hold on…” Nayeon says conspiratorially, like she’s figured out the world’s secret in this moment. “ _You and Minatozaki are finally fucking?”_ She shrieks, and Jihyo winces, and Mina can’t stop the ungraceful snort that crashes into the air if she tried.

“We are _not!_ ” Jihyo huffs as she rolls her eyes at the older girl. “And you’re one to talk. You two, Dumb and Dumber, all over Momo right now? And the past two weeks? What’s up with that?”

Mina lets out an offended “ _hey,”_ at the same time that Nayeon says, “ _Mina is Dumber_ ,” and Jihyo can only laugh as she wraps her arms around their shoulders and guides them inside.

[…]

The weeks following Sana and Momo’s departure fills the house with an unbearable silence that has Nayeon sleeping over on more nights than not, because none of them can seem to find anything to fill the gaping holes in their hearts that the two girls left. It’s not sad, or, not _as_ sad as the first time, because it feels like there is some type of assurance that they’ll be back. _Graduation_ , they have a time to look forward to, now, a day that they have to wait _just a little longer_ for. And it’s enough, or as much as one can consider enough.

Sana and Momo are officially on Hydra’s radar, everyone knows. Nayeon jokingly says that they have their first archnemesis now, and it makes Momo giggle in the tense atmosphere that their phone call brings. It does its job in lightening the mood as the Super duo explain that their missions are being monitored until Hydra stops looking for them

“Is this how it’s going to feel when you two…” Nayeon trails off quietly one night not long before graduation, in the middle of some movie that they were all too tired to pay attention to and too afraid of silence to turn off completely. “When you leave?” She asks, faces her fear in the dark from her spot in between Jihyo and Mina. “When I’m alone?”

Jihyo glances at Mina, sees her eyebrows drawn together in thought, and then to Nayeon, who’s too nervous to look at either of them, and she feels her chest tighten. “Nayeon, it’ll—”

“I’m not going,” Mina says, finally looking at the two girls next to her. “I don’t think I want to join the Association anymore.”

The admission hits Jihyo like a freight train. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find words to wipe the worried look off of her best friend’s face, to tell her _it’s okay_ , because despite the fact that they’ve talked about joining the Association together since they were ten, Mina has always been more than her abilities, has always been worth something more than a soldier set out to follow the instructions given to her by people that didn’t know her.

“But—Mina, you… I thought that’s what you wanted,” Nayeon speaks first, voice laced with confusion.

“I did too, for a long time.”

“You can’t stay just for me.”

“I’m not,” Mina promises. “I’m not, I just—I need time. Maybe I’ll go, one day, but not now, not yet.” She looks at Jihyo, watches with bated breath and Jihyo does all she can think of; she smiles.

“Promise to go easy on those college kids? Not everyone can be as smart as Myoui Mina.”

And if Mina cries, just a little bit, in relief of Jihyo’s reaction, they don’t talk about it.  
  


[…]

Sana is late.

That’s the first thing that registers in Jihyo’s mind as Momo lands in their backyard with her pretty black dress on and her hair down in waves and her makeup done like she’s some sort of idol.

“You’re pretty when you’re not all sweaty and bloody,” she says instead of asking the question that’s begging to slip off her tongue.

“That’s a backhanded compliment, and I’m pretty all the time,” Momo huffs, smiling only when Nayeon wraps her arms around her and squeals excitedly upon her arrival. “Sana’s on her way, she just got caught up with a few things at HQ and told me to head out so we wouldn’t both be late.”

Jihyo’s shoulders sag in relief as she hears the easy tone in Momo’s voice. _If Momo isn’t worried, I don’t need to be worried,_ she thinks. It doesn’t relieve the heavy weight pulling in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re here!” She hears Mina say excitedly, loudly (by Mina’s standards, so more like at a normal speaking volume,) and she turns to see Momo and Nayeon both gaping at her best friend with wide eyes. Momo recovers first, seemingly embarrassed at ogling a girl that is _not_ her girlfriend, not to mention one that has a girlfriend of her own.

“Hi,” Momo greets shyly, wrapping her arms around the other girl as Mina approaches. It’s sweet, Jihyo thinks, the way the three of them tip toe around the grey area of whatever it is they’re doing.

“You look beautiful,” Nayeon adds when she’s collected herself enough to speak a coherent sentence. “Really, _so_ beautiful. I might have to play security and kick anybody’s ass if they look at you too long during you valedictorian speech,” she says seriously, causing Mina to blush and look at her feet.

“I’ll help!” Momo chirps from where she stands off to the side and Nayeon’s serious expression fades into a grin as she pulls Momo close by her arm.

“Our little Minari, and littler Jihyo,” she says as she pretends to wipe tears from her eyes. “All grown up.”

“I’m not little,” Jihyo grumbles petulantly. Nayeon coos and moves to pinch her cheek, but Jihyo is quicker, jumping back and shrieking, “ _you’ll ruin my makeup!”_ and Nayeon only pouts.

“But you’re so cute!” She teases, only relenting when Jihyo’s fingertips spark menacingly. “Wait a minute,” she says, holding her hands in front of her in defence. “You know what static does to my hair, Hyo, don’t be rash!” She shouts, as she hides behind an amused Momo. “Protect me, Momo!” Nayeon pleads, whining when Momo only chuckles in response.

“You can’t use Lavagirl over here as your personal bodyguard,” Jihyo says with a roll of her eyes.

“Don’t call me that,” Momo whines, looking very much like a toddler and very little like one of the most famous Superheroes of her age.

“Come on, girls,” they hear Mina’s parents call from inside the house. “We have to get going or we’ll be late.” Nayeon sticks her tongue out at Jihyo and runs inside before she’s hit with a zap of very annoying static.

Despite the laughter she shares with her friends, there’s still that heavy tugging in the pit of her stomach, one that turns to a tsunami of anxiety boiling throughout her body when the curtains open in the auditorium and the seat next to Momo is still empty.

_Where is she?_

[…]

Sana is late.

That’s the first thought to flit through her mind after a sharp blow to her jaw that sends her reeling backward. She’s just glad she decided to wear pants to the graduation ceremony, or this would be awkward. She manages to dematerialize before she gets hit again, narrowly dodging a— _is that a bat?_ She thinks wildly.

“You know,” she shouts, huffing out a breath. “You could come fight me without sending your boys to tire me out first!” It’s frustrating, really, the way she feels useless without Momo next to her, so unused to fighting battles without relying on her ability to absorb Momo’s fire and magnify it tenfold until they were the only two left standing. “I know you’re here!” She tries again, solidifying once more in time to knock two men unconscious.

“You shouldn’t wish for things you don’t truly want, little girl,” she hears a deep voice from behind her. It slithers its way to her ears and slips down her spine in a way that feels almost paralyzing. She whips around immediately and tries to suppress a shiver when she’s greeted with the horrid sight of Hydra, with his snake eyes and fangs and scales that begin to cover his face.

“Who said I didn’t want it?” She grunts, throwing another henchman to the ground behind her.

“You’ve been hiding from me,” Hydra hisses, slinking with the fluidity of water.

“Not by choice.” Sana thinks of how inconvenient this is, how Jihyo’s graduation is probably almost over and her seat is still empty and the flowers she had stopped to buy are crumpled on the sideway and then she feels the first drops of rain on her skin and thinks _of course, my makeup will be ruined too_.

“For such an acclaimed Hero, you’re quite stupid,” Hydra observes. “Haven’t you realized you’re not making it out of this alive?” And then he’s in front of her, scales glistening under the streetlight and it makes Sana nauseous. She takes a step back, knows it’s a mistake when the half-man’s venomous smile grows dangerously. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“Of your horrible breath, maybe,” Sana retorts before she can stop herself, ducking in reflex as she dodges a swing of Hydra’s tail. “Sorry, is that a sensitive subject?” She lets out a huff as her arms are pinned behind her by one of Hydra’s men and she dematerializes, laughing after she solidifies and lands a blow to the back of his head, sending him to the ground. “You really need to hire better bodyguards.”

“You have a smart mouth for someone with so much to lose,” Hydra chuckles, low and menacing and it makes every hair on Sana’s body stand on edge. He puts his hand up to stop his men’s advances as he looks straight into Sana’s eyes. She watches as the slits flicker for a moment, like he’s excited, or intrigued, and she feels her heartrate pick up.

“Even if you make it out of today, I know who you love, I know where she lives. Do you think _Jihyo_ would enjoy a visit from me?”

Sana’s blood boils, and her vision turns red as she charges toward the Villain in a moment of blindness. She’s a second too late, when she feels it. A second too late in vanishing into nothing after landing no more than one hit to the snake in front of her, before his tail pierces at her ankle and she falls to the ground against her will. She uses all of her strength to keep her shield up, to stay in a state of nothing until she figures out how to get out of this.

“This won’t kill you,” Hydra says like it’s meant to be reassuring, crouching next to her with a smile. “It won’t even paralyze you. But, soon enough, it’ll drain you, and you’ll be too weak to keep up this little vanishing act. Then I’ll kill you with my own two hands,” he snarls, standing up and dusting off his jacket. “That’ll send a message to your little walking furnace friend, too.”

Sana can barely register the words, can only feel the searing pain in her ankle and hold on to her cloak of protection that is slipping from her fingers. All she can think about is the fact that she’s still late and Jihyo doesn’t know why.

It happens too fast, the way her eyes begin to slip shut, and her body flickers in and out of a solid state the same way a video game glitches. It happens even faster, as the raindrops fall harder, and thunder starts crying against the clouds, as lightning fills the air; Sana lets her eyes fall shut to the comforting sounds. Her hearing fades in and out as the pain in her ankle begins to subside, and she thinks she can hear the sounds of fighting, somewhere in the distance, or maybe it’s close, or maybe she’s hallucinating. She’s scared to open her eyes, scared to see where she is or what’s in front of her, scared to have finally lost, scared to not get to see the people she loves ever again.

When she does build the courage to blink her tired eyes open against the blinding white light that streaks the sky in flashes, she sees her.

There, in all her glory, stands Jihyo. Her lightning is striking the ground with a vengeance, rain pouring as a backdrop of the agony that is sure to wash over them in the morning. Her eyes are consumed by the sparks that crackle in her veins, burning in a bright blue haze, energy thrumming in her blood as she breathes electricity. Her hands come up to her sides, calling on bolts from the sky that land in her palms and run through her very soul as she stands in the midst of a sea of bodies. There is, Sana sees, a tiny smirk on her lips as she’s soaked to the bone and she looks like—

“a fucking god,” Sana mumbles dazedly under her breath.

“Hey, Casper,” she hears Jihyo’s voice, strong and buzzing with adrenaline. “You look like you could use some help.”

Sana laughs then, loud and clear over the roar of the storm and Jihyo’s smirk turns into a painfully adoring smile as she covers the few steps it takes to help Sana up. Whether it’s due to adrenaline, or the poison wearing off, or Jihyo’s mere presence, Sana isn’t sure, but the pain in her foot has faded to a dull throb and all she can focus on are the flashes of raw power in Jihyo’s eyes.

“Sorry I missed your graduation,” Sana whispers, glances down to Jihyo’s graduation gown that hangs loosely from her shoulders.

Jihyo only laughs, water slipping across her face as she presses her nose against Sana’s fondly. She holds Sana’s face like she’s holding the universe in her palms and the tremors of electricity still have yet to subside. She watches as little streaks of lightning dance from her shaking hands, tickle against Sana’s skin before trailing down and ravelling them so tightly together that they’re breathing the same air.

Neither of them will know who made the first move, because they’re both leaning forward like they’re helpless to the gravitational pull of each other and their lips meld together like they’re coming home and Jihyo gasps as she’s on the receiving end of electric shock for once in her life. They’re panting when they pull away, eyes lively despite the sorrowful rain beating down against their skin, and Sana whispers, barely audible over the aggressive storm.

“So, you can control lightning storms, now?” Jihyo nods with a little shrug. “Did you also develop the power of attraction since I last saw you? Because I have _not_ stopped thinking about you.”

Jihyo’s head falls backward in laughter as rain streaks her neck and electricity crackles on the tip of her tongue and then she surges forward and kisses Sana before the sparks go out. Sana absorbs it eagerly, tenderly, like she always does, like she wants to be half-Jihyo, half-Sana, and the feeling is like a bolt to her heart as the poor organ begins to beat with such vigor that she fears it’ll jolt right from her chest.

“Let’s go home.”

Jihyo braces herself for an earful from Mina as she approaches the front door with Sana in tow, ready to be lectured on why it was a bad idea to make a mad dash as soon as the ceremony was over without telling anyone. She doesn’t anticipate being wrapped in her best friend’s arms the moment she steps inside.

“You’re insane,” Mina says breathlessly when she pulls away.

“I know,” Jihyo winces, “I should’ve told you, I’m so—”

“No, I mean, _you’re insane_!” Mina shouts with a loud laugh. Jihyo looks back at the equally confused looking Sana that seems to be a few minutes from passing out from exhaustion. “We all saw the lightning storm you created,” Mina clarifies, and Jihyo feels sheepish suddenly, at the eyes on her.

“How did you know that was me?”

“There was only lightning on one street in the whole city, Hyo,” Momo rolls her eyes with a small smile. “You don’t have to be modest; it was fucking cool.” Nayeon nods along eagerly.

“Can we talk about Sana?” Jihyo whines, too tired for all the attention. “She almost _died_.”

“Yes, and you saved me,” Sana says cutely as she cuddles into Jihyo’s shoulder. “My hero. Plus, you scared off _Dr. Hydra_! That’s a big deal.” At the mention of the Villain, the air in the room grows slightly heavier, nobody wanting to confront the aftermath of Sana’s attack.

“He’s not going to give up,” Jihyo reminds everyone gently. “We all need to be on high alert.” She sees the way Mina’s grip around Nayeon’s waist tightens, how Momo’s expression hardens at the words. “We’ll be okay, you guys,” she promises. “I know it.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, somber and tense until Sana breaks the silence like she was born to do it.

“Instead of worrying about it tonight, we should celebrate. We have two fresh graduates, after all,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“What are you celebrating? You look like you’re half a second from falling on your ass,” Momo says as she looks at Sana skeptically, only to grin brightly at her when the girl begins to pout. She moves forward and lets Sana lean on her as she guides her to the living room with Nayeon trailing behind, and then it’s just Mina and Jihyo lingering by the door.

“She’ll be okay,” Mina promises, wringing her fingers the way she does when she’s nervous. Jihyo reaches a hand out to envelop Mina’s and take it in her own.

“I know,” she says, because she does. “You will be, too.” Mina looks up then, curious eyes finding Jihyo’s. “Your choice to stay, I support it, you know that, right?”

Mina takes a shaky breath in, nods sharply before Jihyo pulls her into her arms. It feels so much like the days when Mina would hold Jihyo in the dark of their shared bedroom, on her lumpy, unfamiliar bed that made her feel like the monsters from her nightmares were holding her hostage. It feels like Jihyo wiping Mina’s tears after days, weeks, _months_ of not feeling good enough. It feels like years of Mina and Jihyo and the two of them forever despite their plans for the future taking shape in a different form.

“Where’s my _partner?_ ” They hear Sana call loudly from the living room. “Where is Jihyo-ssi? Jihyo! They’re holding me hostage!” She wails dramatically. Jihyo and Mina pull apart with watery eyes and embarrassed smiles and they lean against each other as they walk toward the commotion.

There, of course, they see Momo sitting on a struggling Sana as she attempts to get up, with Nayeon filming the ordeal on her phone.

“Is this a side effect of the poison?” Jihyo asks Momo as she sees Sana flail her limbs

“No, this is a side effect of being Sana,” Momo says monotonously as she tries to get the foil off a bottle of champagne. “You need to stay still, you’re injured.”

“You’re injuring me more!” Sana whines, eventually settling down when Jihyo takes a seat next to her. The shift in her expression is comical, really, as she leans into Jihyo’s side and calms down enough for Momo to move to sit on the floor and watch Mina successfully remove the rest of the foil from the bottle. “I have a question,” Sana whispers like it’s a secret. Jihyo hums. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Momo pops the bottle in the same instant that Jihyo says “ _yes,”_ and the three girls on the floor are too engrossed with catcalling them as Sana pulls Jihyo in for a kiss to realize that the champagne is spilling all over the floor. When they do notice, when Momo shrieks as the cold liquid touches her feet and Mina jumps up to get paper towels while Nayeon doubles over in laughter, when Jihyo looks into Sana’s eyes that hold the secrets of the universe, she thinks the brightness in her chest would put the sun to shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u got to the end: congratulations! in case anyone is confused by the powers, though it's not necessarily important to understand them,
> 
> Sana can dematerialize, absorb other people's powers/the impact of attacks on her and then sort of mimic the power/attack, and she teaches herself how to control air
> 
> Jihyo can control lightning in all forms
> 
> Mina can control water in all forms, can take pain, which then matures into the ability to heal
> 
> Momo I imagine to be a little bit like the Human Torch LOL
> 
> Honorary mention: nayeon has the power of being smart and pretty and funny
> 
> none of these are really original at all, i've taken them all from various shows/movies that i've seen and they arent set to once specific superhero/supernatural universe! also "dr. hydra" is sooo lame but i couldnt think of any other villain names and this is where we're at! i do plan on writing a mihyo prologue at some point to explain more about the academy and what i imagine that to be like so that'll give more insight on powers and stuff as well but i'm not rly an expert with superhero things anyway, this was just for fun!! 
> 
> and, finally, thank you so much for reading! (btw idk where namimo came from they just felt like they went together in this story 😭)


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